Despite Everything
by Gutsygirly
Summary: She's been broken up with, and that's probably a tragedy. But she's going to overcome that through that tried-and-true method: pulling oneself up by one's bootstraps. If only she can find some boots.
1. 1: All We Ever Knew

**Chapter One: **

"_We must admit there will be music despite everything."-Jack Gilbert_

_Dear God Almighty, _she thought to herself, _this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me_. Of course, Lillian knew that if a rough break-up was the worst thing that ever happened to her, she was a lucky woman indeed. She was only twenty-one, though, and she'd had a lucky twenty-one years so far, so she forgave herself the hyperbole and allowed herself another internal groan: _this is, by far, the _worst _thing to ever happen to me_.

It had been two weeks since she had ended her relationship with Abbott-or, rather, it had been two weeks since she had begged Abbott to stay, to love her, because she was sure that no one else would. She'd hated herself for it then, and she hated herself for it even more now, with the hindsight that only two weeks and a rickety train window can provide. Anyway, he had said no, and closed the door quickly and quietly as if four years could be done away with as easily as that. Open and shut.

So Abbott was gone, and Lillian was still here, although _here _was different than it had been two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, Lillian had lived in a tiny, cramped apartment in the city, overlooking a gray parking lot and the nest of four pigeons that seemed to have IBS. It was a dirty window. Now, though, she was on her way to the country, with its rolling hills and whisps of white dandelion fuzz that looked like a baby's hair. Lillian would never have Abbott's babies now, a thought which sprung tears to her eyes that were equal parts sadness and self-loathing.

Of course, Abbott's departure was what had brought her to this train window, at least indirectly. If her boyfriend had stayed, Lillian would have stayed, too, in the apartment with the parking lot and the pigeons. Because he had left, she had been forced to reconfigure her life, and her hair was already cut about as short as it could go, so a trip to the hairdresser wouldn't do. No, Lillian had decided, she needed to start over completely. Originally, she had planned on perhaps another tattoo, and perhaps a cat-until the letter in the mail.

"Remember that great-aunt you met when you were four months old, Lillian?" Thus had her mother's letter begun. "She's died," her mother continued, blunt as ever, "and she's left _you _her farm. You can sell it, I suppose, and move to an apartment with a better view." But, suddenly, Lillian did not want an apartment with a better view, nor did she want another tattoo or a new cat. She wanted a new life, on a farm bequeathed to her by a woman whose existence she only knew from Christmas cards that smelled faintly of manure.

And so here she was, sitting alone on a train pulling into a station that was tinier than a train station had a right to be, with the deed for a house she had never seen clenched in one fist, and a case with all of her clothes in the other. _Alone_, she couldn't help thinking. _I am all alone, and this isn't going to fix it_. Seeing the station brought the situation into astonishing clarity. _What a stupid goddamn thing to do. _

But she was here, and she had signed the deed. She officially owned a dilapidated farmhouse in a town she assumed was called Bluebell, based on the faded blue sign that read "Welcome to Bluebell" just outside the train window. She was officially living in a town named after a brand of ice cream known best for a listeria outbreak. Christ Almighty.

"Christ Almighty," she muttered to herself. A hand suddenly gripped her shoulder, and Lillian turned. The hand stayed right where it was.

"I'd refrain from 'Christs' and 'Gods' and even 'Mother Marys' around here," said the person to whom the hand belonged-a young woman with long purple hair, braided up in a crown on her forehead. Her face was all eyes.

The purple-haired enigma continued: "They won't get mad at you, but they...think differently here. They believe in a harvest goddess, a lady of the lake, if you will. She has green hair and only emerges if you throw turnips or whatever into her lake."

"Turnips or whatever," Lillian said skeptically.

"I never said I believed it," the woman said, "only that you'll stand out if you don't act like you do. It's the one thing they can agree on."

Before elaborating on who _they _were, or even giving Lillian her name, the woman stood up, patted her cheek like a kindly grandmother, and swept up the aisle and off the train. Lillian could only follow-at a distance.

And just like that, Lillian was off the train, standing just in front of the "Welcome to Bluebell" sign. Despite having just exited, the woman had completely disappeared, leaving only a rail-thin, elderly man at the station. He hobbled from his cart-his _cart!-_holding a cardboard sign in his hands. For some reason, it made Lillian sad to see her name written on this sad piece of cardboard; each letter of Lillian Faye become progressively smaller, until the last "e" was barely visible at all. It was such a human thing, and it made this man seem even frailer. She wanted to like him, badly.

"I'm Rutger," he said. _Couldn't he sound less old, less broken? _She wondered, feeling pity for him combined with frustration that he had to be so pitiful in the first place. Maybe it was just that everything in the last few weeks had made her want to cry or rip her hair out or just scream loud enough to wake the dead.

"I'm Lillian," she said, extending her hand, because what else was she supposed to do? Cry? Rip her hair out? Scream? She smiled instead, because that was the acceptable thing to do, at least until you were well within the confines of your very own dilapidated farmhouse. Alone, as usual.

But then Rutger smiled, and tipped his tiny green hat. It made her feel a little bit better. "We're going to escort you to your home! Our Lillian-Goddess rest her soul- was a true treasure, and it's both for your sake and for hers that we are so excited to welcome you to Bluebell."

Lillian had not even known her great-aunt's name. Lillian, indeed.

"Goddess rest her soul," she murmured, to be polite. Just then, a golden head popped out of Rutger's cart.

"Welcome, welcome, Lillian!" The voice managed to convey excitement, despite the fact that it was delivered in a slow, drawl, each word extended to its limit.

Now _this _had the potential to make her feel better, surely. The boy-the man-in Rutger's cart was standing now, tall enough to block the sun. You could almost describe him as lean, but not truly. He had a brawn to him that had to come from farmwork: shoulders and arms rounded with muscle, thighs she could tell were strong as anything beneath the corduroy of his pants-but, then, she shouldn't be thinking about another man's thighs. Even now, it felt like a betrayal to Abbott. Stupid.

He jumped down, and Rutger held his hands together in delight. The old man truly was an open book; it was clear that he cherished the younger man, whose name she was so eager to learn.

"Ash," he said, holding out a muscled hand. Could hands be muscled? Oh, yes.

"Lillian," she said for the second time in two minutes, with an unfamiliar roiling mass of guilt and desire and confusion and sadness in her stomach. It went away the second he smiled; nothing could compete with a grin like that.

It felt good to think like this, to allow herself to be excited about the possibility of something new. _Okay. Okay. _

"I have this deed," she said, fumbling in her hands, hating that her hands were so sweaty. She didn't have to worry, though, because neither Ash nor Rutger reached for it.

"Oh, we know," Rutger exclaimed, hands still clasped like a prayer. "Ash and I have been cleaning the ol' farmhouse up for you, and we left you a little surprise." His eyes quite literally twinkled. _Honest to God, _she thought, _it's going to be so hard to be cynical here. I'm not sure why I bother._

"We're so happy you chose Bluebell," Ash chimed in. "Though I'll bet Ina's bothered."

"Hm?" Lillian asked halfheartedly, in truth not really caring who Ina was, or wondering why Ash thought there was any choice involved at all. For all intents and purposes, Bluebell had chosen her.

"Shall we?" Rutger interrupted Lillian's daydreaming about a life of soft cows and muscled thighs with a clap of his gnarled hands.

But he, too, was interrupted, his voice subsumed by a much larger clap. If Lillian had not seen the blue sky in her peripheral vision, she would have assumed it was thunder. Rutger and Ash knew better, though, perhaps with years of experience in a place wilder than she yet knew.

"Fire," they said, almost at once, and Lillian's stomach rose up into her throat. She couldn't help but admit, though, that the spike of adrenaline felt almost welcome as Ash grabbed her arm almost roughly and they all ran to the cart. It wasn't a good feeling, but it wasn't sadness. It wasn't emptiness.

That welcome feeling turned sour quickly as they rounded the bend, as Lillian saw Bluebell for the first time. Almost exactly in the middle of town, in what looked like a charming small town square, a pillar of smoke rose straight and dark and true. Flames licked stone and wood, eating them so fast Lillian could barely stand to watch.

She didn't know then what building Bluebell was losing, but she could hear the screams of the people in the town square, and she said a quick prayer to God or Christ or Mother Mary or even _Goddess-_anyone-that no one was inside. She could hear, too, Ash and Rutger breathing, fast and quick, not even daring to say a word, to take a breath deeper than a pant. Over and above everything else, though, even so far away, Lillian could hear the flames. She could hear the fire, crackling as it fed, roaring and raging and louder, louder.


	2. 2: Things We Lost in the Fire

**Chapter Two: Things We Lost in the Fire**

For the first time in a while, Lillian's hands was being held. Gently, strongly-she couldn't tell. Her entire body was a bit numb, probably from a combination of the smoke before and the smoke now, and the exhaustion. Mercy, Lillian was exhausted.

As tired as she was, though, she could still appreciate the beauty of this scene. The entire town of Bluebell had come together without delay. They had all seemed to know what to do, a fact that had cemented for Lillian the fact that she was not and never would be a part of this town. This town that sang a song that didn't seem to have any words, with their hands held tight, standing in a circle around a fire that was, even now, devouring a general store.

But she _was _part of the circle, wasn't she? And she might not have known the not-words to the not-quite-a-song, but she was able to hum along at parts, and her hand was being held, and was holding back, and this was surely a start.

But before all that, there was fire.

"No, no, no, no," Ash was murmuring, his hands clenched so hard it looked like the bones of his hands wanted out of their skin.

"I'm sure it's not-" Rutger began, but Ash cut him off sharply.

"You're not sure of anything. It could be."

Lillian was lost, sitting squashed between the two men, smelling their sweat and her own. The deed was long gone, fluttering off somewhere in the wind as they'd set off for Bluebell.

They were silent for the rest of the trip, though Lillian was close enough to hear little breaths catching in Ash's throat whenever he looked up at the smoke. Mostly he kept his gaze at his knees, at his clenched fists held there.

It seemed to take longer than her train ride, but suddenly the road beneath the horse's feet turned to cobblestone instead of dirt, and they continued noisily into the town. Welcome to Bluebell, truly this time. Lillian's stomach clenched, but she still had the presence of mind to wonder-and to feel guilty about wondering-whether each farm they passed would soon be hers.

Before they even came on the town square, the smell of smoke was overwhelming. Lillian held one sleeve to her eyes and another to her mouth, knowing that even a warm bath later wouldn't be able to soak the soot out of her hair, her eyelashes, her pores. And they weren't even there yet.

As they came closer the town square, Ash let out a breath Lillian had not realized he was holding. "Thank Goddess," he said quietly, his hands relaxing, and Rutger clasped his shoulder tightly.

"Go," he said, and Ash climbed out of the cart without another word and ran off to a building catty-corner to their cart. _Jessica's Livestock _was written across the top of the building, which was not the one producing all of the smoke. Lillian had no clue what was going on.

"What's going on?" She asked, knowing that she sounded wholly dim but not truly caring.

"That's Ash's store. His home, too. He lives there with his mother and sister," Rutger said, but it was clear that his attention was elsewhere, seeking out the site of the flames. And, suddenly, it was there.

Rutger uttered a word that Lillian liked to use but what shocked to hear come out of a gentle, elderly man's mouth.

"What's going _on_?" She asked again, feeling so out of the loop that she was dizzy. Or maybe that was the air quality.

"It's the general store. Our _food_! Oh God, Diego and Enrique!" Rutger wailed, getting progressively louder-as did the surrounding village as they got closer. There was a large crowd outside of what was apparently the general store-or what had been the general store. Now, the pointed roof had capsized in, letting flames and smoke belch out faster than the townspeople could throw water inside.

Two men, brightly clad in purple and blue, moved furiously, tossing water inside with a fury that told Lillian that this store belonged to them. Her stomach tossed like the water pails.

Then, a voice rang out above the rest, sharp and high-pitched and...angry?

"Get it together, please! Goddess, _move, move, MOVE_!" The voice was coming from a shockingly petite woman, with ice-blond hair falling out of what had probably been an immaculate bun. She wore a red dress and an apron that Lillian could tell had once been white.

The crowd of people, however, did not listen to the small blonde woman, instead turning to stare helplessly at the cart-though whether they were staring at Rutger or at Lillian was unclear.

The woman groaned loudly, grabbed the water pail out of the nearest person's hands, and rushed into the building.

"LANEY!" Rutger roared, standing up in the cart and upsetting the horses, who bolted forward. Lillian, who had stood when Rutger did, fell sideways-_like a goddamn buffoon_, she thought-and right out of the cart.

And into a pair of shockingly comfortable arms-at least, comfortable when compared to the cobblestones. Those arms were wearing purple plaid, a bold choice, and smelled of lavender. _Could I just go to sleep here and now_, Lillian thought, _and wake up when all of this is over_? Wasn't lavender the flower that promoted sleep, maybe?

Instead, Lillian opened her eyes and looked up, into one of the most sharply beautiful faces she had ever seen. It was a man, maybe her age or a bit older, with blemish-free skin and bone structure seemingly made of glass. Soot streaked under his eyes, which were dark as pitch and surrounded by thick eyelashes. He was a study of contrasts, and he was beautiful. He also looked very stressed. It didn't take a genius to realize that.

"Thanks, thanks," Lillian said before this strange beautiful person could scoff at the fact that she had managed to make a personal disaster out of a communal one. "I'm all good now, so you can, um. Go?" It sounded rude, but that couldn't be helped.

"Could you help us?" He was blunt, but Lillian could tell that this cost him- his line of sight settled right about her knees. _No eye contact here, folks. _

"Oh, of course," Lillian said, but before she'd even finished speaking, the man had grabbed her hand and pulled her forcefully _towards a burning building_. Someone thrust a bucket into her hands, and someone else plopped a hat which vaguely resembled a firefighter's helmet onto her head as she passed inside.

Inside, Lillian could see that it was a lost cause. The circular room was engulfed in flame, which licked up not only all of the shelves and their contents but also the walls themselves, seemingly made of straw as much as stone. She saw two or three figures inside, but it was a hellscape that Lillian immediately wanted to escape. Her being here wouldn't help anyway.

Instead, though, she thought of Ash's clenched hands, of Rutger's panicked shout, of the brothers working in vain to save a lifetime of work, of Laney's loose strands of blonde hair, of this new stranger's sooty purple suit. She dropped to her knees, because didn't smoke rise? When that didn't work, when the smoke still choked under the helmet and into her mouth, coating her teeth and throat, she sunk lower, crawling like an infant on her hands and knees. She pushed her water bucket forward, not sure where she could even use it that it would be of help.

Next to Lillian, a shelf suddenly cracked apart, spilling beans and flour and God knows what else onto the floor in an explosion of white powder, settling on Lillian like a second skin. Heartbeats later came another shelf, this one more destructive, with sparks showering down and settling on Lillian. It burned anyplace that she had open skin-her wrists, her ankles, even her collarbone. She screamed, not even able to hear herself over the crackling, and with that came the realization that she was alone. Her skin was literally boiling, blistering over, her lungs were so full of smoke that she felt that she would be sick, and she was totally alone.

Forgetting entirely about the fact that she was supposed to be helping-or perhaps remembering and not caring just now-Lillian pulled herself and the bucket of water into the closest semblance to a corner that she could find in this round shop. She didn't know how to get out, and no one would come to look for her, so she had to keep herself safe. There was a part of her smoke-addled brain that wanted to remind her of something, but all Lillian wanted now was to find a shelf that wasn't burning, to crawl behind it, and to sleep for a million years.

Of course, there were no shelves that weren't on fire, so Lillian found the one closest to her that looked the safest, with the fewest flames, and nestled herself there, her arms plunged into the water bucket up to her elbow. It didn't make her feel better. Now she was wet and in pain, and the bucket was starting to heat up, too. _What was that thing they said about the frogs in the water? _

A shriek sounded, closer than Lillian would have liked. It startled her eyes open, and she blinked once. Twice. She could barely see. Where was she?

A flash of blonde hair, of red dress. Red flames on the red dress. _Oh, God_. Before she could even think, Lillian had tossed the contents of her water onto the flaming red dress, dousing the figure that Lillian now recognized as Laney. The flames went out and Laney's breath came faster and faster. So did Lillian's. But without her water bucket, this corner didn't seem quite so safe. Her helmet was fogging up, and she pulled it off. Bad idea. Now she couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, and she couldn't get out. She didn't want to sleep now, but it was too late to do anything about it, and it looked like Laney was probably going to die here, now, too.

So, so softly, Lillian heard voices rising: "You can't go in there," said one; another shouted, "Laney's in there! Save her, please, please, please!" And yet another sounded so angry: "This is _my town_, not yours, and you'll stay right where you are!"

But then there was silence again, and Lillian wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

Another flash of red. Lillian thought it was more fire at first, but no-it was another shape, unrecognizable but tall and strong. It grabbed Laney around the waist and began tugging her outside, holding a hand over her mouth to protect her from smoke. Beneath the cloth, Laney was struggling to say something, gagging on the words that sounded to Lillian a lot like "her her her her!"

Her finger jabbed out then, weak but determined-right in Lillian's direction, and this new figure clothed in more red nodded and said something unintelligible, and Lillian thought for a moment that maybe she would be able to make it out of this thing alive. But then the woman turned, pulling Laney with her, towards what was probably the door, though Lillian couldn't make it out, let alone try to follow.

Sitting here, all alone, Lillian cradled her legs in her hands like a small child, and she finally began to cry-about losing Abbott, about how scared she was to die in a fire, but most of all about the fact that she was about to die in a fire and she was still thinking about a man that didn't love her, not truly, not at all. The tears didn't even roll down her face; they steamed up and away before they even hit her cheeks.

Lillian closed her eyes then, crying louder, harder, no longer trying to conserve her breath. What was the point, anyway? It was probably better to die faster of no air than to die slower of fire and flames and burning. Because her eyes were closed, she felt rather than saw the arms that clutched her around the waist, pulled her up, and carried her towards light and real air and people and Bluebell and _life_.

Was it Abbott? Did he save her? This, of course, didn't make any sense, but Lillian didn't realize at the time, and right now the only arms she wished to cradle her were his, so it made sense to her, then. She got a reality check fairly quickly, though, as Rutger announced her savior with a sneer so full of hate Lillian had to open her eyes.

"_Ina." _

He stepped forward, and the hands holding Lillian dropped her fairly quickly, and none too gently, onto the ground.

"Rutger," said the savior, towards whom Lillian was now looking up. It was the figure in red, a woman, taller than any man in the square. She had a square face, beautiful and strong, with olive skin and shiny black hair loose to her shoulders.

Rutger stepped over Lillian's body, which struck Lillian as quite rude, and stood closer to Ina than Lillian would have ever let a man stand by her. Sure enough, Ina took a step back, but not before Rutger spit in Ina's face.

"The audacity. The absolute _audacity _for you to come to my town and pretend to try save our people-" here he gestured with a flailing arm to Lillian, whom no one had rushed to help, and then Laney, who was surrounded by a small crowd- "when you and your people have done nothing but _ruin _us." Spittle sprayed from his mouth as he spoke, collecting in the corners of his mouth, but Ina stood, still as a stone. She had not even wiped Rutger's spit from her face.

"If you think that this stunt will drive us to Konohana for business, you could not be more wrong, Ina. If you think that, after this, anyone from Bluebell will ever look to you or yours kindly again, you are sorely mistaken. And," he turned to the crowd, "if I ever see one of you cross the mountain to that vile place, you won't be welcome back here until the day I die." He stood still, staring into Ina's eyes, before turning and walking away, leaving Lillian on the ground.

Ina looked down at her, as Rutger had not truly done. "If you ask someone to help you, they will." And then she, too, turned and walked away, though in the opposite direction, towards a mountain that Lillian had not had the chance to notice before. On her way, she touched the shoulder of a shaking, red-haired woman, who flinched at the touch, but who followed Ina's pointing finger to gaze at Lillian, who stared back.

Ina walked away now, but this new woman walked forward tentatively. She knelt down beside Lillian and held out a jug of what looked to be milk.

"There's not much water floating around that's not to be used for the fire," she said in a drawl that matched Ash's, "but we've got cream to spare. Drink up, dear. You look like you could use it."

Lillian did, and it was glorious. Is this what came out of country cows?

"I'm Jessica," the woman said, taking the now-empty jug from Lillian's hands. "You've probably met Ash; he was to meet you today. I'm his mama."

"Oh, yes," Lillian said. "He was...very kind," she said, but all she could think about were those hands. The tension in them made her so very sad. His family farm had been saved, but Diego and Enrique's livelihood was dissolving into dust even now.

Jessica beamed. "He always is. He's a doll. He wanted to come out here to help, once he'd checked on us, but I made him stay at home with Cheryl. She's only five, and she can't be here. Her little lungs are still growin', you know," she said. "Oh, how about you come with us? You can stay over for dinner, since there's nothing any of us can really do now, I suppose, and you've certainly done more than your fair share."

She certainly had, hadn't she? Now that she was safe, Lillian was starting to feel resentment towards the people of Bluebell who had waited anxiously out in the square, hands full of water buckets, feet frozen to the floor. This was their town, and yet Lillian had been the one to rush inside to help-Lillian, who had yet to see the farm where she would live, who had never before been to Bluebell and who knew not a soul living there. She had almost died, and for what? For who?

"Sure," she muttered at Jessica, who she was now inexplicably mad at, too, and started to stand up.

A hand reached out to help her up. A well-manicured hand. "You saved my life in there. I owe you a hand, at the least."

It was Laney, looking exhausted and completely _done_. Even so, she spared a tight smile. "Cam told me you went in there, without even a thought. He went in and turned right around, but you didn't."

"I guess I didn't know any better," Lillian said. She smiled. This was one person she didn't have to resent; Laney had been in there with her, too.

"Regardless, I'm afraid you'll have to work hard to lower yourself in my estimation from now on. You've set quite a high bar for yourself, Lillian," she said. "Anyway, I didn't just come over here to thank you. We're going to start a Goddess vigil, and I didn't want you to be caught off guard."

Jessica gasped. "Oh, good, good. Healing."

Laney nodded twice and began to walk off. She turned her head over her shoulder to speak as she went: "Thank you, again. You're one of us now, and you shouldn't forget it." And then she was gone.

Lillian shook her head to clear it. Everything was confusing. "What is a Goddess vigil?" She asked Jessica, whose jaw dropped.

"Do you not have those, where you're from? The city?" She said the word with a twinkle of awe in her eye, as if the city was a fantastical destination and not a quick train ride up the road. Maybe for her, it was a fantasy.

"No, we don't, actually." Lillian neglected to mention the fact that, where she came from, there was not even a Goddess. She remembered the purple-haired woman's warning, and kept her mouth shut.

Jessica grabbed her hands and pulled her closer to the fire, and Lillian instinctively pulled back. "No, no, it's okay," Jessica murmured, her voice dropping into a maternal croon that had likely been used to coo Ash and Cheryl to sleep, a sound Lillian had never truly known. It did the trick-or perhaps it was the fact that Lillian could now see that every person in the town was coming together, surrounding the building in a loose circle. She wouldn't have to go back in.

She followed Jessica to a spot safely back from the fire, her eyes still burning from the smoke and probably at least a little bit from sadness and fear and a loneliness that she was only just now realizing.

Now, though, Jessica took her left hand, and someone else took her right, oh-so-gently. The man in purple. He still smelled of lavender-small miracles. Lillian opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke first. "I shouldn't have left you in there." Before she could respond, the man looked forward, his face a bright, bright red, and Lillian wanted to say something, but found that she couldn't. Her throat was choked with the pleasure and the pain of, finally, having somebody say, "I shouldn't have left you."

To his right stood Laney, who smiled and nodded sharply. No blushes there. And to her right was Ash, who smiled dazzlingly at her, and gave her a thumbs-up with the hand that wasn't holding a tiny little girl with bright orange curls.

Just then, a flurry of sparks exploded into the air from the general store, and, as if on cue, the whole town raised their voices and their clasped hands into the air, singing a song without words that Lillian somehow knew anyway.


	3. 3: Pretty Shining People

**Chapter 3: Pretty Shining People**

Lillian woke with a start in a bed that smelled like boy. Flannel and cotton and...oranges?

"Morning!" said Ash, who was sitting just by her bed. His bed? Eating an orange. Aha. He held out a slice.

"They're a real pick-me-up, and Goddess knows you need-" He cut himself off as Lillian sat up in bed, kicking her legs frantically like a trapped insect to get out from under the blankets that she was gradually realizing were probably his. _What did I _drink _last night? _

And then, a worse realization even than the fact that she had probably spent the night with a guy whose smiles were so earnest they hurt her molars: she was wearing a flannel nightgown. It was the type that Lillian had always wanted when she was little, the type that all of the beautiful girls with long, preternaturally curly hair wore during the holidays. Lillian had never had one, and she'd desperately wanted one, but this was a cruel joke. She was twenty-one, for God's sake.

Ash must have seen her looking down in horror at the monstrosity she was wearing. "A little embarrassing, I know, I know. I told her. But she wouldn't have it. She sewed it all last night." He must have been speaking of Jessica, because he looked just a little bit proud.

"All in one night?" Another horrible thought. "When did I put it on?"

"You didn't. You were fast asleep, so Mom dressed you. I mean, probably. I guess. I was asleep, too. Um, upstairs. Not here. Away. From you. She was still working on it when I went to bed."

"Your mother _dressed _me last night? I'm going to vomit."

Ash was laughing, his face a bright red, though Lillian couldn't tell whether that was because he was embarrassed or because she was. Probably a winning combination of the two.

"You basically passed out after the festival. We were worried about smoke inhalation, and, you know, we couldn't call the doctor, so mom decided to doctor you up a bit here. I hope you're feeling okay. We have a diffuser, and we put some lavender in it, some lemon, honey, basically anything we thought would help…."

He trailed off, looking a little bit sheepish. Lillian was still mulling over the fact that they couldn't call the doctor. Was she supposed to know why?

"Anyway, it's kinda late, so I figured we could head over soon, to your farm, I mean. I'll give you some space to get dressed, unless you want me to call my mother back in to help you figure it out." Ash delivered the whole speech, joke and all, with a completely straight face. He had clearly recovered from his embarrassment, instead tossing it back to her, the impressive bastard.

Lillian rewarded him by burrowing under the covers. "I'm never coming out. I'm going to die down here, you just wait and see. Then you'll be sorry. I'll start to smell after a day or two."

"A day or two?" She could practically hear him wink at her. Well, at least _someone _was getting comfortable in this arrangement.

"Your clothes are on the bed stand," he shouted as he walked out. His footsteps got gradually fainter, and eventually Lillian poked her head out from under the covers. So much flannel.

Truthfully, she probably did already smell. She couldn't tell-everything was obscured by the smell of smoke that clung to her hair and probably would for quite some time. Maybe this was a good thing, though, since Lillian hadn't brushed her teeth since arriving in Bluebell. She nearly gagged.

Luckily, Ash-or, more likely, Jessica-had left a whole array of tools for her to get ready-toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, and, of course, that change of clothes. Wait...was that flannel?

It was, indeed, flannel.

"Oh, ho, ho, absolutely NOT," Lillian shouted as she stomped out-her stomping made much more effective by the farming boots with which she had been provided.

Ash was nearly bent over laughing at her, leaning against the fence just next to his house. "I think your bandana's on backwards, sweets," he crowed, and Lillian kicked dust at him. The boots were much more effective at kicking dust, too, even more so than the stomping. Perhaps these she would keep.

"I'm not a candy bar. I'm not a sweets!" She tried to kick again, but stubbed her toe with the heavy boots, losing her balance and landing backwards. Nope, the boots would have to go, too.

Ash held up his hands. "No, you most certainly are not. But my Goddess, you look just like a Bluebellian! Spin, spin!" He twirled his hands in the air, and Lillian stomped around three hundred and sixty degrees, grunting and groaning the whole time so he would know that she was not willingly doing any of this.

"I look like I belong on the Oregon Trail," she moaned as she turned.

"The what?" Ash was still laughing.

"Oh, nevermind. I look like...like I'm about to go out and milk the cows or something."

Ash cocked his head to one side. "But that is what we're going to do, right now!"

Lillian blanched visibly. "Right now, as in, this very second? I'm going to have to touch," she shuddered, "a real udder?"

Ash's smile was contagious. "Lillian, what did you think farming was? You come here with your denim-"

"Jeans."

"-and your fancy chemise-"

Lillian was laughing in earnest now, having more fun with Ash than she had in what felt like a very, very long time. "Shirt, Ash. It was a shirt. Just because I didn't dress like some kind of hick doesn't mean-"

Ash took in a breath, sharp and quick, and the smile dropped off from his face. His sadness was catching, too; Lillian all of a sudden wished she could take back all the words she'd said, the words she'd meant as a joke but that clearly had been received as something far more biting. She felt like a villain. Ash let out the breath that he had been holding, and Lillian held hers, waiting.

"Okay. Okay. So, you come here, wearing your fancy _shirt _that flowed in the breeze and probably cost more than we make in a month, and I'm not even going to begin to talk about the shoes that you were wearing. Everyone noticed, even during the fire, for Goddess' sake, so that's how you know they were all wrong. But nobody said anything, because we all wanted to help you figure it out." Ash was quickly getting out of breath, and Lillian didn't know what to say, and, like an idiot, she got defensive. Fast.

"Your point being?"

He was by now completely serious, completely sad, all traces of light gone from his wide-open face. "Why did you come here, seriously? If you don't want to milk a cow, and I'm assuming you don't want to hold a chicken," he said, pausing long enough for her to shake her head vigorously. "Those are the easy parts of farming, Lillian. Those are the parts that most people come here for. They leave when it gets hard. But you won't even do the easiest things. You won't even wear a dress that my mom sewed especially for you, even though she only did it so you would feel like this was your home, too.

"Your mom sews a lot." It was all that she could think to say, and she immediately wanted to impale herself on the fence.

Ash just scoffed and turned his head to the side.

"Wait, Ash, I thought we were joking! I thought we were laughing!" Lillian hated how desperate she suddenly sounded, but she didn't know what to do. This conversation had seemed to turn so quickly.

"That was until I realized you were just laughing at all of us." He pulled a key out of his pocket and turned it around in his hands a couple of times. It was small and rusty, but it was attached to a purple lacy string, clearly brand-new; someone had gone to a lot of effort to make this look special. It made Lillian feel sick.

Ash held his hand out. He was still leaning against the fence, so that she had to come forward to grab the key out of his hands. It was a bit humiliating, and Lillian felt the strangest urge to cry.

She took it, expecting him to do, well, something. Instead he just kept leaning against that stupid fence, only now he had stopped looking off into the middle distance and was instead looking directly at her. Daring her to say something to fix something that she just didn't know how to fix. She didn't know how to do anything anymore, it seemed.

"I…." She was stuttering now. "Thank your mom for me, Ash." She adjusted her bandana on her head so that it was no longer backwards or sideways or whatever way it had been wrong before.

She started off in the direction of the town square, since that was the only place she knew. Surely this was where her farm was-although, now that she was giving it some serious thought, she really didn't know if she would recognize _her _farm. It's not like there would be some kind of welcoming committee, painting "Welcome home, Lillian!" in a crappy banner over the doorstep.

That was all she wanted: a stupid damn crappy banner with the paint all drippy and her name spelled wrong-because that would mean that somebody had cared enough to paint her name, to welcome her home. _You did have that, you absolute garbage heap_, she thought, _and you acted like they were backwards and wrong just for caring in a way that no one did before. _

That was when she started to cry, a different kind of crying than she had indulged in over the past few weeks. Not a sad, pitiful, woe-is-me cry, but a sad, guilty, woe-is-me-because-I-bring-it-upon-my-own-damn-self kind of cry. There wasn't anyone who loved her the way she wanted, but that's probably because she didn't deserve that kind of love after all. No one owes it to you, and Lillian hadn't earned it.

"You're going the wrong way," Ash shouted.

It could have been her opportunity to walk back to him, to apologize, to explain that she had started off joking and had missed the point when it had turned sour. To explain that she was lonely and bitter and cynical but that his brightness, Jessica's brightness, had made her feel a little bit bright, too, and she didn't know how to feel that and not make fun of it. Not yet.

But she didn't say any of that. Instead, she turned around, and now it was her turn to stare off into the middle distance, away from him, so that he wouldn't see her tears. She just gave him a thumbs up. She didn't trust herself to say even anything, not even a simple "okay," without the word cracking to pieces in her mouth.


	4. 4: The Devil Ain't Lazy

**Chapter Four: The Devil Ain't Lazy**

Finally, her farm. By the time Lillian had arrived at the tiny dirt path that led to her land, her face was wet with tears, and her boots were covered in dust. Overall, it was not shaping up to be the best day.

Seeing her farm, in all of its glory, did not help. At all. The plot of land was so small that there was room for little besides a tiny patch of dirt, a tiny ramshackle barn, and a tiny ramshackle house. Emphasis on the tiny.

Lillian could take it all in without even turning her head, which was good, since a migraine was beginning to work its way up the back of her neck. As if the day was not already horrible enough.

She stepped forward, and that one step basically took her directly into the dirt patch. "Am I supposed to grow things here? Things that will live?" She wondered aloud, her voice cracking through each and every word.

"That's basically the point, my dear," shouted a voice from the direction of the tiny, ramshackle house. Lillian startled, especially when she saw the purple-haired mystery woman from the train.

"WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?" Lillian bellowed, so loudly that the migraine shot right up into the back of her brain. The woman took a step backwards...into the house. "Wrong _direction_," Lillian wailed, and then the tears started up again. She plopped down into the dirt patch, only belatedly realizing that she was yet again treating Jessica's gift poorly.

The woman walked outside this time, one hand held up as if to say, "Hey, hey, simmer down." Her other hand was holding a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

"Hey, hey, simmer down," she said, grabbing Lillian's hand and pulling her out of the dirt. "Someone's had a tough day!" She smiled in what was probably an attempt to look sympathetic. She mostly looked like she wanted to laugh at Lillian, which was fair. Lillian kind of wanted to laugh at herself.

"Who?" She sniffled.

"Oh, dear Goddess," the woman snorted, and pulled Lillian inside, to see her own home for the first time.

"I'm Oracle," she said, "and this is your house! Yay! You can stop crying now! Voila!" She kept gesturing her arms out at the small space, clearly desperate for Lillian to just. stop. crying.

"Oh, my God," Lillian laughed through her tears. "That's such a horrible name. Like a stripper who's too into Greek mythology. _Oracle_." She laughed again.

Oracle was clearly perturbed. "Well, whatever. It's not my real name, anyway. Clearly. And I'm not sure who Greek Mythology is, but I don't even know him, so you can cool right off."

She sat down on the bed-Lillian's bed-and hooked a nearby chair with her daintily-booted foot, dragging it over loudly until it was near the bed. Lillian sat. Her tears were now subsiding, as she tried to figure out what corner of hell she had found herself in, that nobody seemed to know about _Greece_.

Oracle cleared her throat. "So, Lillian. Something's happened to make you upset, and, as your friend, I think it's my right to know what that something is."

"My friend?"

"And, in exchange, I will give you this ice cream that I found stocked in your refrigerator." She held out the mint chip, which Lillian reluctantly took. She spooned some into her mouth, but she barely tasted it. The whole day was coming back to her, and she found that she did, in fact, want to talk about it. The problem was, she couldn't really get it out without crying. She swallowed the ice cream, and made a heroic effort to keep a steady voice.

"Well, um, so. I woke up in Ash's bed," she began, but tears were already filling her eyes.

Oracle leaned back against the wall. "My, my! Naughty Lillian! I mean, I _get it_, don't get me wrong. Ash is a fine, fine young man, and I would-well, you don't need to know what I'd do, it might frighten you off. But day two? Even I am impressed, I have to admit-" She broke off suddenly, seeing Lillian's balled up fists. "Oh, I told you to talk, didn't I? Oh, okay, maybe if I have this ice cream back, I'll shut up," she said, taking the ice cream spoon right out of Lillian's hand.

And, just like that, Lillian told her. Everything. She started from the beginning, telling Oracle about Abbott, about her great-aunt, about Ash and the dress and the fact that she didn't want to milk a cow. True to her word, Oracle just listened silently, though by the time Lillian was done, the ice cream container had been scraped completely empty. Oh well.

"And so now, I just feel like I screwed everything up. And, like, I don't need Ash to love me or whatever, that's dumb, and I know that, but I wanted him to be my friend. I wanted someone to want to be my friend."

Oracle scoffed and threw up her hands. "And what am I? Dog food? I've sat here this whole time, listening to you tell your story, which, by the way, has some _obvious _solutions, and you don't think I'm your friend?"

Lillian sniffed. "I guess?"

"Just because I don't have super tan man hands or whatever doesn't mean that you should value my time any less."

Lillian sat up suddenly, worried that this conversation was going in the same direction as the conversation with Ash. "No! No! Oracle, thank you, really, for listening. I needed this," she pleaded, and she must have sounded as sincere as she felt, because the other woman leaned back into the bed.

"Yes, Lillian, you clearly did. And I clearly needed this ice cream!" She tossed the empty carton at Lillian, who just turned it around in her hands, not sure what to do or say now that she'd told every bit of herself to a person she barely knew. But, oh, here was a start: she could try to get to know that person. She didn't want to repeat the mistakes she'd just spent an hour detailing.

"How did you get the name Oracle? You said, it wasn't your real name," she blurted out, way too loud in the silence. Even so, Oracle seemed pleased to have been asked.

"No, it's not. I was born with another name, but you gotta be at, like, friendship level ten before I tell you that. They call me Oracle here because they don't really understand me or what I do, but it suits me just fine. I like being the mysterious woman from beyond," she said with a smile.

"And what do you do?"

"I make potions. It's simple science, really, but the people here don't like anything that can't be explained by the Harvest Goddess's rules, so they think I'm some kind of supernatural being competing with her. Also, my hair is purple."

"Yeah, what's up with that? All this Harvest Goddess stuff? I know you warned me on the train, but I'm kind of worried I just moved into a cult where they're going to throw stones if my skirt shows my ankles."

Oracle tossed her head, hiding her face behind an elbow. "Ankles? Begone, foul demon!" She grinned. "Nah, I'm just kidding. They don't really care what you wear here, as long as it's convenient for farm work. You could probably come up with an argument for why hot pants are the Next Big Thing for farming, and the next day you'd see way more of Ash than you'd bargained for. Hm, now that I say that, I-"

Lillian cleared her throat. "Harvest Goddess?"

"Oh, right, right. So, basically, the Harvest Goddess is the local deity for both Bluebell and Konohana. They have shared custody. Conveniently, she lives halfway between them, in the pond at the top of the mountain that separates the two."

"So, she's a real person? You've literally seen her, with your literal eyes?"

"I think you might be misusing _literal _there, but, hey, what do I know? Yeah, I've seen her. She's definitely a real gal, though I'm not sure if she's actually a goddess or just some woman who's figured out how to breathe underwater." Oracle looked ponderous. "There's gotta be a way, you know. Some kind of plant, maybe? I'm working on it, so I'll keep you updated."

"And what makes people think that she _is _a goddess?" Lillian asked, trying to keep up with all of Oracle's meanderings.

"Well, first of all, the green hair really works wonders. I mean, my goodness, you would think the people here had never even _heard _of toad stools…" Lillian was lost for a moment, before Oracle resumed speaking. "But I think most of it has to do with the fact that she seems to perform miracles, usually once a generation or so."

Lillian still struggled to believe that a woman with green hair had somehow supplanted all other deities in these two small towns. "Wouldn't it more likely be coincidence, if it only happens once a generation? Shouldn't some all-powerful goddess do nicer stuff more often, like, I don't know, putting out a fire that could bankrupt some of her believers?"

Oracle held out her hands. "Whoa, whoa, little horsie, rein it in. You'd think it was your store that the Harvest Goddess had personally set aflame!"

Lillian grunted. It hadn't been her store, sure, but she had been the one crawling around in the flames and _nearly dying_, so she felt that she had the right to a little bit of anger here and there about the lack of divine intervention.

"Well, I actually happen to agree with you," Oracle said. "My personal theory-though I would never in a million years say this to Rutger or Ina-is that the Harvest Goddess doesn't actually care about us that much, if she is a goddess. So what happens is that she does something amazing, like cure somebody of blindness or rebuild a barn overnight, or some other thing that makes people _ooh _and _ahh_ and bow down in blind devotion."

"Sure woulda been nice about twelve hours ago," Lillian grumbled, but Oracle held up a hand.

"But even the most pure and devout of the Bluebellian and Konohanan citizens are only people. And, as people, we're naturally drawn to what we can see. The flashy, the exciting. So the Harvest Goddess gets to ride on that piety high for only so long, before everyone starts to collectively forget that she did anything for them in the first place. That's when the other deities start to slip in through the cracks-your God from the city, or maybe even others from far away. We've had brief bouts of super devout Buddhism and Hinduism around here, if you check the history books."

Lillian couldn't help but wish Bluebell was going through one of its super devout bouts of Buddhism right about now. Then at least she would know what to do and say and how to fit in. This Harvest Goddess business was, despite Oracle's best efforts, really, truly, starting to sound like a cult.

"So what happens next? Well, the Harvest Goddess naturally gets jealous. And then things start to go downhill. Fast. Bad things happen here, unnaturally bad things for a place that has, like, a poverty rate of zero and the cleanest drinking water in the whole country."

"Bad things like a fire," Lillian added in, expecting to be scoffed at again, but Oracle only nodded. Lillian felt her stomach clench up in spite of herself. _I don't believe in the Harvest Goddess. I don't even believe in _God. But something didn't feel right anyhow.

"So these bad things happen, and people get desperate. They start appealing to whatever God they've been praying to, and things just keep getting worse, for whatever reason. And then, they turn to the one they'd forgotten about: the Harvest Goddess."

"Like the Goddess vigil during the fire," Lillian murmured, and Oracle's head snapped up.

"The what? Lillian, what did you say?"

"During the fire at the general store, we did what they called a Goddess vigil. We held hands and sang, basically. It was kind of nice," she admitted, and Oracle let out her breath in a big huff before laying down on the bed. Lillian made a mental reminder to wash her quilt before she went to bed tonight-Oracle was still wearing those little boots.

"You're dumber than you look if you thought that was nice. I mean, you were worried about a cult and _this business_ didn't freak you out?" She held up her hands and moaned some kind of song, swaying side to side with a half-baked smile on her face.

"Okay, okay, so I was a bit delirious from the smoke."

"Mmm-hmm."

"And the fact that Cam's hand was very, very soft…"

"There it is."

"...But it didn't feel dangerous. It felt like a group of people coming together after a tragedy, to comfort each other. That's not a bad thing," Lillian said, as much to herself as to Oracle.

"Well, no, it's not. Not inherently. But it's a dangerous thing for a whole town-a whole _two _towns-to be under the influence of a fickle woman with green hair," Oracle explained.

"But you have purple hair!"

"Well, yes," Oracle sputtered, "but that's not the point. The point is that Bluebell and Konohana aren't safe. Not ever. Because any time that crazy mer-witch decides that she's not being cherished enough, she wreaks havoc. And it only gets worse if they don't fall into line right away. I hope she decides that the Goddess vigil was enough. Last time it wasn't."

"Last time?" Lillian could swear that Oracle's voice had dropped a whole octave in the last sentence, which did not bode well for Lillian's mental health just now. She was quite literally sitting on the edge of her seat.

For the first time in the whole conversation, Oracle looked away. "You should ask someone else about last time. Rutger, maybe."

Lillian's stomach was refusing to settle down. Maybe she had a tapeworm. Maybe this water _wasn't _the safest in the country, or maybe the Harvest Goddess had planted tiny little eggs in it just this morning...

"Anyway, Lillian, my point is that you've got to be careful with the whole Harvest Goddess business. You won't be stoned to death if you say, "Oh, my God," or whatever. At least, not by the townspeople. They don't really care what you believe. But the Harvest Goddess-whoever or whatever she is-really, really cares."

_Gulp_. "And what am I supposed to do about this? Just keep my mouth shut?"

Oracle sat up just a little bit, now leaning on her elbow, closer to Lillian than she had been the whole conversation. It was almost, Lillian thought, as if she was afraid of being overheard. She shivered.

"Actually, I don't think you should keep your mouth shut at all. I think it's time that we finally did something about this." Oracle's face was serious as she spoke, her mouth not crooked into a smile the way Lillian by now expected.

"We?"

"You've gotta help me, Lillian. Please. I can't say anything, because nobody trusts me anyway. And I-" She looked to one side, then the other, as if checking the small room for anyone listening. "I'm sometimes scared that the Harvest Goddess is just waiting for me to slip up. That the next bad thing will happen to me." She looked genuinely terrified, her big brown eyes taking up more space than before.

Lillian wanted to say no. Badly. She had just moved here, after all, and even though the farm was small, and run-down, and pretty sad-looking, it was _hers_, the first thing that she could call her own, ever. And, yes, she had already messed things up pretty bad with Ash, but she figured that she could fix that with him. And Cam seemed to like her; hadn't he even blushed when they'd first met? And Laney, who had made _Lillian _blush-she had seemed to like her, too. This could be a town where she found her place for the first time. But all of that was unlikely to happen if, right out of the gate, she called them a cult and tried to take down the goddess they called their own. No, that would not go over well.

"I can't say yes to that," Lillian whispered, and Oracle's face fell, though she was clearly trying to hide her disappointment by combing her hands through her long purple hair.

"But I'm not saying no, either," she finished, and Oracle's head snapped back up, hands falling to her sides.

Despite all of the reasons why Lillian knew that this was a bad idea, she couldn't help thinking about the way that that fire had consumed everything in its path, with no cause that anyone had been able to figure out. Rutger seemed to blame Ina, thinking that it was a ploy to generate business in Konohana's general store, but Lillian didn't truly believe that. She had felt Ina's strong arms carry her out of the store at great personal risk to herself, and she had seen Ina's face, stony but almost hurt, as Rutger had spit in her eye. No, Ina had not done this thing. And, if not Ina, why not a Harvest Goddess?

Not to mention, Oracle, her new friend, who was sitting in front of her and begging her to help her. And, yes, Lillian hoped that she could be friends with Cam and Laney, and, one day, maybe Ash again. But Oracle was the one who had waited for her-admittedly, in her house, which was intrusive, but still-and listened to her wail and moan, and who had not once judged her. She had just listened. And what was friendship for, if not helping one's friends to defeat a seemingly ageless goddess with a serious vengeful streak?

Oracle clapped her hands together. "Oh, Lillian, thank you!"

"I didn't say yes yet," Lillian warned.

"I know, I know. I'm just asking you," she said, her face turning serious again, "to talk to Rutger. About last time. Ask him about the tunnel. Ask him about your great-aunt, Lillian."

Without another word, Oracle stepped down from the bed. She squeezed Lillian's hands once, twice, and then walked out the door. It closed with a sharp crack, and then Lillian was well and truly alone.


	5. 5: Like Real People Do

**Chapter Five: Like Real People Do**

Maybe alone didn't have to be so bad...right? Oh, who was she kidding? Lillian felt that aching, gnawing little beast in her stomach that only came out when she was well and truly by herself. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying yet again that day. Already, she could feel that her eyes were swollen, and they'd probably stay that way for the rest of the day. Absolutely brilliant.

Lillian laid back on her bed for the first time, though it took a real and conscious effort to think of it as hers in the first place. She didn't even want to think about trying to fall asleep in it for the first time later tonight. From her horizontal position, she tried to take in the place that she would be living for who knew how long. Hm. It seemed to have a nice ceiling, at least.

Even for a girl as woe-begotten as Lillian was at this time, staring at the ceiling could only serve as an entertaining activity for about five minutes. Lillian made it six and a half, just staring, impressing even herself with her fortitude. But there was only so long that she could look at the rafters without her thoughts drifting to all of the things that she had screwed up in the past month-which, by her calculation, was basically everything that she had attempted. This was not a pleasant thing to think. Lillian dragged herself to an upright position again and forced herself to look around, if only to stop herself from thinking about the way Abbott smelled (she had not realized he had a smell until it was gone and only lingered on his hoodies that he had left behind. It was eerily reminiscent of Pine-Sol, and it made her cry).

Lillian did not even have to swivel her head to take in the entirety of her home, which maybe should have depressed her, but she must have been at rock bottom already in that regard, because she instead found it homey. It smelled refreshingly unlike Pine-Sol; instead, its scent brought to mind hay and apples and a slight whiff of cinnamon. The bed was a single, with a faded old blue quilt wrinkled on top. She found a chocolate that someone must have left when they had prepared the house for her, though it was under the pillow that Oracle had laid on, and was thus already squished and quite disgusting.

From the bed, she was directly facing the kitchen table, which was probably meant to be a circle but in fact more closely resembled a peach that someone had dropped once. Or twice. It was surrounded by three chairs, which Lillian found to be a bit presumptuous-_ I need only one chair, for me, myself, and I, thank you very much! _

Behind the table, there was a rudimentary kitchen, which seemed about perfect for Lillian's rudimentary cooking skills. The oven was a bit rusted out, but surely someone would have fixed it if it was a fire hazard, and the pots and pans on the hanging rack were charmingly bent out of shape. Chipped mugs with pale pink, painted roses hung from hooks on the wall. The whole scene reminded Lillian of nothing more than an Instagram ad for some vintage home-flip or another.

In the corner of the house stood a bookshelf without a single book on it. The only item on the entire bookshelf, in fact, was one packet of seeds. Lillian's heart lifted and dropped at the same time as she rushed over to grab the packet of seeds; here was an opportunity to show Ash, and the rest of the town, that she did, in fact, know what she was doing. The heart-dropping, of course, was because she did not, in fact, know what she was doing at all. As if to make matters worse, the seeds were for radishes. Lillian didn't even know what a radish tasted like, let alone how to make one grow.

She had to try, though, because if she didn't, she'd look like the world's biggest ass. _Oh yeah, there goes that _Lillian_. Didn't you hear? No? She moved here to become a farmer...and then didn't farm even one single seed. Yep. She couldn't make anything grow, so eventually she just starved and died. Rumors say her ugly ghost still haunts the house, muttering about Pine-Sol and radishes. _

Lillian shuddered, and gripped the seeds tighter in her hands. Yes. She most certainly had to try. Radish packet in hand, she marched over to her tiny plot of land, which was unfortunately covered in weeds and logs that looked to be infested with worms. Perfect.

Lillian began to haul the logs first, figuring that those would be the most disgusting. She was correct. The logs were rotting, so they smelled of, well, rotting-bugs and beetles and worms crawled over her gloveless hands-_which rotten neighbor of mine was in charge of giving me gloves? _She thought, before reminding herself that, truly, she should have been in charge of her own self and her own gloves. Well, what had to be done had to be done. She continued to haul the logs, though in honesty this entailed her picking each log up with her fingertips, retching dramatically, and then tossing it off into the forested abyss that surrounded her farm. Nobody could say she wasn't giving it a college try.

The weeds should have been easier, but they must have been rooted deep. And then, joy of all joys, there were yet more bugs and beetles and worms nesting in the roots of the weeds, which meant more rotting smells. And more gagging. By the time Lillian had been working for about an hour, all of the weeds and logs were more or less gone, and she had the scars of battle to prove that she had been the one to vanquish them: the red tights that Lillian wore were cut at both of the knees, and the skin beneath was chafing and beginning to bleed. She had already picked a beetle out of one of the cuts, an event that had prompted her to reconsider not only her life choices but also whether she should be living at all. She had decided on yes, but only narrowly.

Now that the field was completely bare, the real work was to begin. Her hands raw and beginning to scab over, Lillian picked up the radish packet only to realize something truly horrifying: she did not have any tools. Not that she would have known what to do with any tools if she had them. But she was yet again righteously indignant that no one had thought to provide her with a watering can, which Lillian probably kind of knew how to use.

She ripped open the packet with her teeth, because that was the kind of day this was, and shook the seeds into her hand. There were three total, and she was enough of an amateur that she didn't know if you were supposed to plant the seeds together in a little seed family, or if they were supposed to be separate so they wouldn't have to share nutrients. _What would I want if I was a plant? _She thought, knowing all the while that an empathetic approach to farming was probably going to lead right down that starvation-death-haunting path that she had predicted earlier. Oh well.

If Lillian was being honest with herself-and she was working on being honest with herself-she would have wanted her seed-self to be with her seed-family and friends as she couldn't be in real life. And now she was sniffling again. Hey, maybe if she cried enough she wouldn't even _need _a watering can!

Having both personified and related to the radish seeds, Lillian could not bear to separate them, so she clumped them all together in one fist. With the other, she dug a small hole into the dirt, into which she then lovingly plopped the seeds. She covered them over, feeling a little sad to see them go, and then marked the spot with a little "R" for radish, since she knew herself well enough to know that the moment she stood up she would immediately forget where she had planted the damn things.

Lillian got up, brushed off her knees, immediately regretted it, and headed it back to her house. Her home. Inside, she grabbed one of those mugs off from its hooks and filled it up with water from the tap, water that was a little brown with what was hopefully rust. Even the simple act of turning on the faucet, of wiping the little water droplets from the rim of the cup, gave Lillian a sense of ownership that was more powerful than she could have expected. These little mugs were hers. This water, if not truly hers, was at least hers to borrow from the earth for a while.

Shuffling her feet, she returned to the "R" patch and made a less-than-educated guess about how much water those little radish seeds would need. When the water hit the ground, the soil emitted a fresh, earthy smell that was wholly new to Lillian, and wholly refreshing after the rotting logs and weeds and worms. The R slowly disappeared into the ground, but by now Lillian felt that she would be able to return the next day without a marker. She would know where she had been. That feeling of ownership hadn't left, and now she was like a proud parent, standing over the little seeds that she had tended with her own hands. She had the dirt under her fingernails to prove it.

Feeling accomplished, Lillian picked up her mug and set off back to the house, fully intending to curl under the covers and sleep until the next morning. If she hadn't earned a fifteen-hour nap by planting a couple of seeds, then, really, who had? She was interrupted, however, by a loud baying noise that immediately set her teeth on edge. _Who in God's name screams like that? _

It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize that the sound was not, as she had assumed, a bellowing person, but rather some kind of animal-and it was coming from her barn. _Who in God's name leaves an animal in someone's barn without telling them? _

Cup still in hand, Lillian raced over to the barn, which was bigger than her house-oh, the life of a farmer!-and smelled of sweet hay and sour dung. Even a city girl like Lillian could recognize immediately, before she even stepped inside, that the smell was cow. Hence, the bellowing. It was a moo!

Lillian was taken over by an almost childlike joy when she stepped inside and saw a cow, her cow, standing indignantly in the barn. How did she know that the cow was indignant? Well, Lillian was not an expert in cow body language-though who among us truly is an expert in cow body language?-but she could _feel _somehow that this cow was angry. It gave her a sense of kinship with the animal before she even touched its fur. She was not truly sure that a cow's hair was called fur, anyway. Oh, well.

She took a step forward, her hands up, not really sure how to show the cow that she, Lillian, was not only a friend but also a fellow wronged woman. Without any real understanding of how cows work, she decided to talk to her, because what else was she to do?

"Hello, lady," she said cautiously, and the cow took a step backwards tentatively. Uh oh.

"My name is Lillian. I know you don't know me, but I think that we are going to get to know each other very much. I'd like that. I don't know that many people around here." She snorted. "I mean, you're just a cow, and you probably know more than I do about Bluebell." Was Lillian imagining things, or did the creature look offended at "just a cow?"

"Anyway, my life has taken all kinds of wrong turns lately." She sat down, because if the cow was going to stampede her, she might as well make it easier for her.

"I was in a relationship. His name was Abbott. I loved him very much. You probably have someone that you love very much." Despite all logic and science, which would indicate that the cow likely did not know even a word of English, she seemed to be listening now. She looked directly at Lillian and slowly, slowly, lowered herself to the ground. She was still on the exact opposite end of the barn, but it was a start.

"I don't know if our relationship was bad or not. I didn't think it was. I was so happy, Tabitha," she said, and the cow's new name just slipped right out. It fit, though; Tabitha was definitely a Tabitha.

"I guess he wasn't, though, and I suppose that if one person wasn't happy then it wasn't a very good relationship at all. That makes me want to cry, and it makes me feel crazy, and I feel even crazier because I'm talking to a cow that is mine, on a farm that is mine! The fact that I'm a farmer at all just goes to show that my life is not where it was supposed to be. I went to school to become a _teacher_," she sob-laughed, thinking about how Abbott had held her so tight the night before she had went to student-teach for the first time. God, she had been so nervous.

"And now, I'm here, and everything is wrong, and it's my fault. Because I'm not supposed to be here, and I think that some stupid part of me knows that and is trying to sabotage it. Everyone was so nice, and I've been so incredibly cruel, and I'm so, so sorry for it. But the worst part is that there's a small part of me that felt powerful while I was saying all of those cruel things. Because it means that this time I'm the one who's doing the hurting, not being hurt."

Tabitha hadn't taken her eyes off Lillian this whole time, and now she stood up and started walking over, slowly, to Lillian, who was by this time almost too sad to be amazed.

"I don't ever want to be hurt like that again," she said quietly. Tabitha seemed to understand; she came and stood just out of Lillian's reach, so that she had to stand up and slowly extend her arm to touch Tabitha's flank. It was warm to the touch, and softer than she had expected. The cow didn't come any closer, but she didn't back away either.

"I bet someone hurt you, too," Lillian said, running her hand lightly along Tabitha's fur. She felt a rush of protectiveness for her cow. "I won't ever let them do it again."

At that moment, Tabitha's ears pricked up, and Lillian heard someone clear their throat loudly behind her. She swiveled quickly, too fast to even wipe the tears from her eyes.

It was Ash. He stood in the doorway, the setting sun casting his face in shadow so that Lillian couldn't make out his expression.

"How much did you hear?" Lillian cringed, thinking of the stupid vulnerability that she had been sharing with a cow and, apparently, also with a boy, with a man, who already hated her. Fantastic.

Ash ignored the question. "She's angry because she's been separated from her calf. It's natural, really; we do it all the time. They have to grow apart at some point, just like humans. We just make it happen a little bit earlier than it would in nature, because-"

"Because then you can sell them." Lillian's voice was cold. Ash wanted to seem self-righteous? That was fine. She could play, too. "Maybe I don't know so much about cows or calves or farming, but I know about family." _Do I? _

"Her calf was-" He began, but she interrupted him immediately.

"Boy or girl?"

"A...girl," he stammered, seemingly caught off guard.

"Her daughter, then. You separated her from her daughter."

Ash seemed to be surprised to be caught on the defensive. When he had walked in, his posture had been guarded, his hands crossed tightly across his chest. Now, he had a hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his head, as if he didn't quite know what to do now that _she _was angry. His other arm hung limply at his sides. "Look, Lillian, I love animals, please believe me. I spend all day with them, loving them, but it's also a business."

"Fine. How much?"

If Ash had seemed taken aback before, he looked utterly baffled now. He stepped fully into the barn. Lillian could see his face now; his mouth hung open in a neat O.

"How much...Lillian, what?"

"It's a business. Fine. But when I was planting my radishes-"

"Your radishes?"

"-She was crying. Crying, Ash, for her baby girl." _What's it like to have someone love you that much? _"I don't have any money yet, but I can pay installments, once the radishes come in, or, I don't know, I can rent out part of the house."

"Lillian, your house has one room. Please be reasonable."

"I can sleep in the barn with Tabitha!" She exploded, her hands splayed out at her sides. "She's the first one who's really listened to me this whole entire time." This wasn't actually true, once Lillian reflected-there had been Oracle, and even Ash probably was a good listener, if you weren't calling him a country bumpkin and insulting his mother's clothing choices. But Lillian was on a roll now, and she couldn't stop the words from pouring out.

"I get that you think I'm an idiot who doesn't understand how the world works, and that's probably true. I couldn't pick a radish out of a line-up, and I really only guessed that Tabitha was a girl, and there's a huge chance I'm going to die of starvation before I get the chance to even see the leaves turn colors in the fall. But I know loneliness and love and Tabitha's got both. Ash, I really, really need her daughter to be with her. Please."

Ash's face was bright red, and he was kneading his hands together as if he didn't quite know what to do with them. He was moved by her speech, Lillian could tell, and he was more than a little embarrassed to be so moved. "Lillian, I can't," he said, and she was a little surprised to hear his voice break a little.

"We really, really need the money. Things haven't been so good in Bluebell lately, I don't know if you noticed, but we haven't been trading with Konohana, which means money is tight and food is even tighter. Rutger used some of your aunt's inheritance for you to buy Tabitha," he explained. Against her better judgment, Lillian found it stupidly endearing that he was so quickly using the name she had given the cow.

"And we already sold Belle, her baby. She's...somewhere where we can't get her back," he admitted sheepishly.

"Is that some kind of weird euphemism to say that she's dead? Crossed the rainbow bridge?" Lillian's voice dripped scorn, and was strangely proud of it.

Ash's blush deepened somehow. "Lillian, I...No. She's alive. But…" He sighed. "Okay, if I tell you this, you can't tell anyone. Especially Rutger. Please."

Lillian hesitated before nodding eagerly; she hadn't expected political intrigue in Bluebell, but making assumptions about the town hadn't gone too well for her the first time.

"She's in Konohana," he explained, his head drooping a little. "We're not supposed to be even talking to them, let alone trading with them, but Ina offered us really good money for her. They need the milk, we need the money…" His voice trailed off.

Lillian's heart dropped. This wasn't really Ash's fault, then. It wasn't anyone's fault, except maybe Rutger, for instituting this stupid we-hate-Konohana rule in the first place. Or, if Oracle was to be believed, perhaps it was all the Harvest Goddess's fault. Damn that woman, who may or may not exist at all.

Tabitha, however, most certainly did exist. She was real, and here, and her big brown eyes looked sadder than anything as she stood silently in the setting sun. Ash's eyes settled on her, and he let out a deep breath. "Lillian, I…." His voice trailed off, and Lillian let it. She didn't say a word. Just waited.

"I'm still mad," he admitted. "You might be sorry, but-"

"Did I ever say I was?" She was still feeling belligerent on Tabitha's behalf, and, perhaps, a little bit on her own.

"Not to me," he said softly, and now it was Lillian's turn to blush as she realized that, though he hadn't answered her first question, Ash had heard much more than she ever wanted him to.

"I am sorry," she said, dropping her volume to match his.

"I know," he said, and somehow they were closer to each other than she was to Tabitha. When had that happened?

"But you said hurtful things, and you meant them, and I don't know you, and I don't think I can trust you yet." Ash's blue eyes were sad, his mouth turned down at the corners. His mouth was not meant to turn down at the corners; it looked wrong, out of place.

"Even if I probably love cows even more than you do?" She knew she was just trying to make him smile now, and it worked.

"Oh, I don't know about that." His smile was still a little tentative, but it was there, and that made Lillian happier than she was ready to admit at the moment. "But it's a start."

They stood there, staring at each other, then at their shoes, then at each other, before Ash cleared his throat again and took a step back.

"Hmph. Anyway. I was actually coming here to let you know that there's a festival tonight. The Star-Gazing Festival."

Lillian had absolutely no idea what that was. "I have absolutely no idea what that is," she told him, and he smiled again. A start, yes.

"It's, well. It's exactly what it sounds like. We all come out and stare at the stars together every summer. There will be lemonade, and punch, and alcohol," he said. His blush had been fading, but here it was again. "It's not much, and I'm sure they do more in the city, but, you know, it's good." His boot was scuffing against the barn floor. God, he was a fidgety mess!

"No, no, it does sound good," Lillian said, and meant it. "We don't do anything like that in the city. I'm looking forward to it. I'll be there."

Ash smiled, dipped his head, and turned. _What an awkward way to leave_, Lillian thought, and she hated for their encounter to end like this. With a strained smile and a slight dip of the head.

"Will _you _be there?" She asked, and for once she didn't quite hate the fact that she could hear a yearning in her voice. Let him hear.

As he turned, Ash's smile came back, full brightness. "I think I will be," he said. "Yes."

As Ash walked away, for good this time, Lillian tried to contain the grin that was making her jaw hurt. It was good to feel wanted-and she did feel wanted-but, even more than romance, she felt a sense of _rightness_ at having stepped up and fixed a problem of her own making. Yes, she could be a stubborn mule when she wanted to be, but sometimes she wanted to be softer than that. Kinder.

Speaking of stubborn, Tabitha was now insistently moo-ing at a small barrel set into the wall. Lillian walked over, and Tabitha headbutted her gently; so much for shyness. The barrel held water, but not nearly enough to last a full-grown cow for the night. Lillian looked around to see if there was some kind of hose, but, of course, no such luck. She sighed. How many trips with her tiny chipped mug would it take to fill this barrel? Well. No way to know until it was done!

She grabbed the cup, still sitting in the hay where she had left it, and headed back for the house. When she reached the door to the barn, she looked out and up, and saw the peak of the mountain between Konohana and Bluebell. It rose, steep and sharp, with the sun setting behind it in muted pinks and oranges and blues. Lillian was struck with a thought, and she pivoted on her heel to look at her cow. A mischievous smile played at her lips.

"Hey, Tabitha. How would you like to get your daughter back?"


	6. 6: That's What's Up

**Chapter Six: That's What's Up**

The scent of gardenia and the song of crickets floated in through Lillian's open window as she stood in front of her old gilt mirror. She was trying desperately to make herself presentable, the exhilaration of what had maybe been flirting with Ash now dying down into insecurity and panic.

"God, it's like I'm sixteen all over again," she muttered to herself, taking the scissors to the nape of her neck. She had cut her hair, _Rosemary's Baby_ style, about four hours after Abbott had walked out the door, and the pixie had seemed cute when it was styled and spiked. Now, though, after hours of strenuous activity and sweating and the bandanna that Lillian was trying and largely failing to be thankful to Jessica for, her inch and a half of honey blond hair was sticking to her head in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Robbie Rotten. Not cute in the least-unless Ash had a thing for _LazyTown_?

Lillian groaned and reluctantly put the scissors down. In a flash of inspiration, she ran to the sink and ran her head under the tap. The ice cold water ran down her ears, into her eyes, and dribbled down her spine, but it did the trick; she was able to towel-dry her hair into the spiky fairy-like do that made her feel confident, sharp, new. As for her face-well. She hadn't put on any makeup that day, but lo and behold! Her mascara from move-in day-had that really only been one day ago?-must have remained. It was now smudged under her eyes, and not in the _I did this on purpose, and oh look! I'm late for my America's Next Top Model audition_ kind of way. In the raccoon kind of way.

So, back to the tap she went, furiously scrubbing at her face to get the thick makeup from under her eyes, and then immediately regretting the furious scrubbing. Her face looked like a truly ripe tomato. Lillian knew that her outfit would have to do; her tights were still ripped at the knee, but maybe the rest of the Bluebellians would like her better if they could see that she was doing the work that they respected. _Or maybe they'll just think you're an idiot, because you are an idiot_.

Regardless, it was time to go. Ash had invited Lillian to the Star-Gazing Festival, and she was a little embarrassed at how excited she was. Not just because of Ash, either; she wanted to thank Jessica for the clothes (and explain how said clothes had already been mostly ruined), she wanted to finally meet Laney for real, and she wanted to...well. She wanted to see Cam again. "I'm a _harlot_," she wailed, realizing that there were not one but two men in Bluebell that made the butterflies in her stomach flutter up to the back of her throat. But, self-proclamations of harlotry aside, Lillian couldn't really find it in herself to feel guilty, at least not yet. _I'm only twenty-two years old. I'm going to fall in love over and over and over again. _Not that this was love. Of course not.

Lillian's justification of her overactive butterflies was interrupted by an assertive knock at the door. Lillian took a deep breath and walked over to the door, opening it before she lost her nerve. _Speak of the Cam, and he shall appear_, she thought, as the purple-clad man appeared on her doorstep. He was taller than Lillian remembered, and his hair was even longer than hers, though it was almost the same color as it fell over his sharp green eyes. _Now that's someone who doesn't need mascara_.

"Rutger asked me to invite you to the Star-Gazing Festival," he asked, his voice just as sharp. Lillian was a bit taken aback, having perhaps read a tad too much into the fact that he smelled like lavender and wore purple. How could you be aloof if you wore head to toe purple plaid? Surely that was against the rules.

Anyway, Lillian was somewhat incensed by the rudeness. "Ash already did. I'm on my way now," she said, sticking her nose up in the air on purpose as if she was a mean girl in a late-nineties rom-com. She'd seen enough to know.

"Well, I guess we can walk together. If you're not going to take any more time to get ready." _Damn_.

"No, not me. I have a comb inside if you need one, though." Lillian was drawing on _Mean Girls_, _Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You_-and it still didn't feel like enough. Cam didn't look even vaguely flustered, not like he had when Lillian had fallen into his arms. Maybe she could do that again, use her damsel-in-distress wiles to make him blush again? That would show him!

Instead, she just shut out the light, locked the door behind her, and said, "Well?" as he continued to stand there.

"Well, what?"

"Well, I don't know where I'm going, so you'd better start showing me the way." Lillian wasn't quite sure what was bringing out this sass, and after all that self-betterment that she'd worked on for Ash's sake! What a pity. Even so, it felt nice to let all her bitterness just rush right out of her mouth, to direct her meanness at someone who didn't react with a pout that rivalled a Golden Retriever's.

Cam turned without a word and started walking in the opposite direction, out of her farm, his hands in his pockets. God, he was tall. _God, you're an idiot, Lillian_.

Lillian refused to run to catch up with him, but her legs were much shorter, so she was now about five yards behind him. She stuck her hands into the pockets of her dress-because Jessica was a true goddess, it _did _have pockets-and started to whistle "Country Roads," because, hey, when in Bluebell, right?

Without turning his head, Cam said, "If you don't hurry up, all the gin is going to be gone by the time we get there."

"How do you even know that I drink gin?"

"You look like someone who is well-acquainted with its charms."

Lillian was truly offended. "For your information, I much prefer a nice glass of Merlot."

"Classy. I'll alert the presses."

By the time they had reached the town square, Lillian had caught up with Cam, though neither of them seemed particularly happy with their new arrangement. They walked side by side, hands still in their respective pockets. Lillian kept peeking out of the corner of her eye to see if maybe Cam was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, but, of course, it was truly impossible to tell.

Bored, she began to compose a song in her head to the tune of the cricket's music and, unknowingly, began to hum along, quite proud of herself. She wasn't exactly Wagner, but, to her own ears, the melody was pretty catchy.

"You're humming."

"Hmm?" She was brought out of her reverie by Cam's flat tone.

"You're humming a song, and I quite wish you would stop."

"Well, I wish that you could have carried me to the top of this mountain, but we can't all get what we want."

Cam scoffed loudly enough that Lillian suspected it was performative-no one scoffed _that _loudly unless they really wanted you to know that you had been scoffed at.

"You're humming again."

"Yes, I know. It's an original," she said proudly.

"No, it's not."

"Well, what's that supposed to mean?" It was Lillian's turn to scoff, and she made sure it was extra loud for Cam's benefit.

"If I'm not mistaken, you're humming "Vogue."

"_Madonna's "Vogue?" _Lillian was shocked and offended, but then she remembered her little tune and could just hear the "vogue vogue vogue" that would have completed it. Damn.

"No, Bach's."

"Well, how do you even know Madonna, anyway? I'd figure you were still stuck on Bach here," Lillian said with a measure of satisfaction, before she remembered that she was supposed to quit with the demeaning comments about Bluebell's backwardness. Lucky that Ash wasn't here!

"You're lucky that Ash wasn't here to hear you say that," Cam echoed, prompting Lillian to wonder whether Ash and Cam were friends. Surely they must be, if Cam already knew how Lillian had crushed Ash's feelings that morning. "Anyway, I spend half of my week in the city. But even if I didn't," he continued with a smirk that Lillian could barely see, "Bluebell has finally caught up to the eighties. Even Rutger knows Madonna, although he likes to pretend that "Like a Virgin" doesn't exist."

This pointless conversation seemed not to have been so pointless after all, as Lillian and Cam had now arrived at the foot of the mountain, sans any more awkward silences.

Lillian had thus far only seen the mountain from a distance, and she was shocked at how steep the incline was. "You sure you don't want to carry me?"

Cam snorted, and started up the mountain. Or hill. How did you differentiate between the two?

Disinclined to continue the rest of the climb in silence, Lillian rushed up to walk next to Cam. "So what brings you into the city half the week?"

He sighed. "You know, I promised Rutger I'd bring you, not that I'd talk to you." They walked in silence, and it was unbearable, again.

Lillian began to hum, loudly. "Like a Virgin" this time.

"Fine. I have a flower shop, and I get good business in the city. Satisfied?"

Lillian snorted aloud. _So _that's _why he smells like lavender!_

Cam folded his arms across his chest. "You've already alienated Ash, and now me. How many more people can you make fun of in a forty-eight hour period? Color me impressed."

"I've already apologized to Ash. But you seemed to hate me from the first second I opened my door today, so, no, I don't think I need to apologize for laughing at you. You deserve my spite, if you're not going to even try to like me," Lillian said, folding her arms and unknowingly mirroring Cam for the second time that evening.

"I'm not," Cam said, as if that was that, and, to Lillian's chagrin, they continued the rest of the hike in silence.

As they climbed, Lillian tried to pay more attention to her surroundings than to the fact that her feet felt like they had been stepped on by a pig or two. The air was brisk now, the smell of gardenia and jasmine giving way to the scent of the clear, clean sky; Lillian didn't quite know how to describe that smell, exactly, other than that it reminded her a bit of the Bath and Body Works Sea Island Cotton lotion that was buried somewhere in her duffel.

By the starlight, she could tell that the ground around her was a bright green, with tiny white flowers lying close to the ground, poking up their heads here and there. Her favorite, though, were the tall, deep violet flowers, their petals bursting open to the moonlight. She wanted to gather some, to ask Cam what they were and if she could grow them herself, but she didn't dare. Instead, she merely trailed her fingers along the tops of the flowers, bringing her hands to her face to see if she could catch their scent, but no luck. Cam didn't even look back.

Suddenly, the ground started to level out, and the sky cracked open wide above Lillian's head-they had arrived at the mountaintop. She wasn't quite sure how she had missed the noise, though. She must have been lost in her flower-induced reverie, because everyone she had met in Bluebell was gathered here, as were everyone whom she had not met. There was a punch table in the middle of the mountain, with villagers gathered around, drinks in their hands, heads thrown back in laughter. If Lillian had expected a repetition of the solemn Goddess vigil, she was sorely mistaken.

"Cam," said a voice almost as sharp as his, and Lillian turned her head to see Laney striding purposefully towards them. "You're late."

Cam jerked his hand toward Lillian none too kindly. "She moves like a water buffalo," he said, coming to stand next to Laney. The two of them looking at Lillian was almost too much for her to bear; their twin glares, hands both crossed over their chests, equally green eyes looking out disdainfully.

"If you mean that I move with purpose and poise, then yes," she responded.

"In fact, I did not. I meant-"

"Oh, be quiet," Laney swatted Cam upside the head. "We all know you're a snot; you don't have to remind us every other sentence." She looked at Lillian, the look that she had interpreted as disdain quickly revealing itself to be nothing more than self-assuredness.

"I'm sorry about him," she said, her eyes cutting to Cam quickly with a smirk. "Rutger should have sent me to get you, but he's got these antiquated ideas, one of which is that men should escort women to festivals." She laughed. "But I notice that he wasn't too quick to walk down there himself." She looked over her shoulder at the punch table, where Rutger was laughing hysterically, tears streaming down his face. He leaned on the table, presumably to remain standing.

Cam raised his eyebrows. "The old man's letting loose. You better watch out, Lillian. Who knows what he'll do when his inhibitions are so dangerously low?"

Laney swatted Cam again, this time on his arm. "You have absolutely no respect. Goddess! Anyway," she turned to Lillian, "welcome to the Star Gazing Festival! It's not much-"

"Mostly just an excuse for Rutger to get drunk and pontificate on Bluebell's greatness," Cam added.

"-But it's beautiful, and sometimes it's nice to slow down for a minute or two and just remember that we live in the most beautiful place in the world," Laney concluded.

"Isn't that Disney World?" Cam asked, and this time Lillian thunked him on the shoulder. Laney smiled at her.

"Well, I know this makes me a hypocrite, but I can't actually stay up here to slow down any longer. I've got work to do at the bakery," she said. "It was nice to see you again, Lillian. We haven't forgotten what you did for us at the General Store." She touched Lillian's arm, her smile warmer than Lillian would have expected, and began her walk down the mountain. Lillian watched her go, perhaps for a second too long.

Cam snorted loudly. "Oh, yeah. Try it and see what happens."

Lillian whipped her head to him, her cheeks reddening. "Try what?"

"Propositioning Laney. Just make sure you invite me when you do; I want to make sure I have my popcorn to watch _that _trainwreck of a show."

Lillian spluttered and had to resist the urge to stomp her foot. "_Proposition_? Do I look like a pimp to you?"

Cam shrugged. "You're wearing purple tights. I don't know what to believe."

Lillian opened her mouth to defend Jessica's tights, which, truly, were a tasteful plum and not purple, but she didn't get a word out before Cam started talking again, his voice dropped an octave.

"She's got a secret girlfriend," he said with a devious smile. "I'm not supposed to know, and she hasn't told me, but it's pretty obvious. She's usually much less smiley," he said, his own smile turning into a disgruntled frown, as if Laney's happiness were a character flaw. "Whoever it is, she wants to keep it a secret, but she's clearly over the moon." He used his fingers to mime a finger-person jumping over a moon made of a fist; he was obviously enjoying this conversation.

"But she-"

"Flirted with you? Yeah, she does that. Never realizes, either. My theory is that she's just particularly good at maintaining eye contact." He said this with his eyes averted, as if thinking of eye contact made him not want to look at Lillian for even a second. She kept her own eyes on the ground, embarrassed that she had read into her interactions with Laney something more than was there, just as she had with Cam. _Oh God, what about Ash? _

"Is Ash here?" She blurted out, and immediately regretted it. _Stupid, stupid_.

Cam looked around exaggeratedly, his hand over his eyes as if to block the non-existent sun. _What a jackass_. "Hmmm…." he said, bringing his hand down to his chin. "I don't see him, do you?"

Lillian couldn't help herself; her eyes wandered, though she tried her best not to move her head, not to seem too eager. "No," she admitted after a second. "Maybe he's late."

"_We _were late," Cam said. "And, oh, look. There's Jessica and Cheryl. If he was here, he would be with them. Why are you so interested-did he tell you he'd be here?" There was a wicked gleam in Cam's green eyes, as if he relished the possibility that his friend was hurting Lillian on purpose. _Is he hurting me on purpose?_

"No," she said defiantly, even though, of course, Ash had said that he would probably be here, and Lillian could have sworn that he had seemed excited to see her. Then again, she had been wrong before-about everything.

Cam predictably saw right through her act. "Maybe that apology of yours didn't really stick as much as you thought," he said, looking now right in her eyes. He smiled, quick and tight, before turning around. Without looking back at her, he shouted over his shoulder, "Why are you even here, anyway?" He didn't stick around for an answer.

Left to her own devices for the first time all day, Lillian sighed and looked around. She had wanted to talk to Jessica, sure, but now the prospect just seemed humiliating; what if Ash had told Jessica what Lillian had said about the clothes, about Bluebell? What if they had laughed that evening about the look on her face in the barn, how she had so clearly thought Ash was interested in her? No, she couldn't face Jessica.

For the second time that night, Lillian felt sixteen again, pivoting around in a circle, desperately looking for someone to eat lunch with. Or, in this case, to watch the stars with. _Oh, what the hell. Maybe it's time to become better acquainted with the charms of gin_.

She strode over to the table in the middle of the mountaintop, trying desperately to avoid eye contact, though it felt like each person there was turning to look directly at her. What were they thinking? What were they calling her in their heads, in whispered comments: Fool? Whore? Outsider? She didn't want to know, and yet she did, and her head was spinning even before she poured herself perhaps too much gin and gulped it down all in one.

In what was probably a placebo effect-surely she couldn't already be drunk?-Lillian felt her inhibitions drop dangerously low. _Who cares if they see me? Who cares what they think of me? Where's Ash? _She spun around again, looking for Ash or maybe Laney again or anyone, anyone who would talk to her without looking at her like a pariah.

And, just like that, there was Oracle, her bright purple hair gleaming in the moonlight. She stood apart from everyone else, her hands clasped behind her back, looking up at the stars with a kind of reverence. As if she could sense Lillian's eyes on her, she looked over suddenly. Lillian raised her hand and waved, feeling that finally, here was someone who would understand. But Oracle didn't raise her hand or wave or even smile; she just stared, before turning her head back to look at the stars. Lillian's stomach dropped.

And then immediately dropped again, as a voice began to talk much too loudly in her ear. "I'd ignore that witch if I was you," Rutger slurred, his chin drooping to Lillian's shoulder. "She'd as soon poison you as look at you," he laughed, then hiccupped. Lillian turned and took a step back. Without the support, Rutger swayed in place, but miraculously managed to stay standing.

The sight of Oracle jogged Lillian's memory. Something that her friend, or maybe-friend, had said earlier dislodged itself from where it had gotten lost in her brain, and suddenly reasserted itself: "Talk to Rutger. About last time." Lillian wasn't sure that now was the time-could Rutger even remember a time outside of the present? He was more intoxicated than Lillian could have thought an eighty-year-old body could handle without keeling over. But here he was, and so Lillian had to ask.

"Hey, Rutger?"

"Hmmmm?" His eyes were drooping sleepily, and he was clearly making an effort to keep them open.

"I just, you know, I thought I should ask…"

"Yes, Lillian, yes. I am married, thank you for asking. I am flattered, you know, as you are young and beautiful despite the fact that your hair is cut much too short to be becoming, if you ask me, but flattered I am nonetheless-"

Lillian snapped her fingers at Rutger, eternally grateful that Cam was nowhere in earshot to hear this mortifying exchange. "No, Rutger. I wanted to ask you what happened to my aunt."

At this, his watery blue eyes snapped open, and he tried his best to focus them on Lillian. "You don't know?" He seemed shocked. Lillian shook her head vehemently, though the alcohol was beginning to buzz in her own veins, for real this time.

Rutger hemmed and hawed for a moment or two; he clearly did not want to be the one to tell Lillian, who found herself wishing to God that she had a mother who had the foresight or the kindness or whatever to prepare Lillian for hardships, just goddamn _once_. But she couldn't think of her mother. She shook her head again, even though it was truly making her dizzy now.

Rutger must have thought that she was signaling him to go on, and so he sighed. "There used to be a tunnel, my dear," he said, his eyes sad. "Between Konohana and Bluebell. It's how we traded with those nasty, good-for-nothing-"

Lillian cleared her throat, wishing desperately that she could sit down. Her head was swimming. Rutger continued. "Ah. Ehm. Anyway. As I was saying, there was a tunnel between the two towns. But one day, it collapsed. It was Ina's fault, I know it; she was allowing her villagers to drill too close to the tunnel, for the ore, even though we _knew _what would happen-"

"But what does this have to do with my aunt?"

Rutger opened his mouth, then closed it again, gaping like an old, drunk catfish-whiskers and all!-before he said finally, "Your aunt was in the tunnel, Lillian."

And just like that, all of the gin and the exhaustion and the sadness and the just-plain-bizarre-ness of the night caught up to Lillian, and she dropped right to the ground in drunken faint. She didn't even have the foresight to put out her arms to cushion her fall. But as she went down, she thought to look up, up, up, at the stars that had brought her here in the first place.


	7. 7: Talking in Code

**Chapter Seven: Talking in Code**

Before she even opened her eyes, Lillian knew that something was wrong. She felt as if she was submerged in water, unable to breathe or blink or even think properly. Her hands were pinned to her sides, her legs frozen in place.

And then a hand-or what felt like a hand, long and bony and absolutely frigid-stroked Lillian's cheek, fingers trailing down her face, taking their time. Lillian felt an ice invade her veins, chill her to the bone.

"I see you," a voice whispered, female and ageless and just as cold as her touch. The fingers stopped their descent abruptly, pinching Lillian's cheek, hard.

And then they were gone, and Lillian was awake, her heart beating fast, restoring warmth and sensation to her extremities. She flexed her toes in her boots, thankful that she still had toes at all.

It quickly became apparent that Lillian was not alone-she was still curled up in a fetal position, though now she was in the open air instead of underwater. She could feel the warm wind rustling her hair, lifting her dress. Someone was holding her, someone so pleasantly warm, alive. Even knowing that she had left that cold, lonely place she'd just been, Lillian was afraid to open her eyes. Instead, she listened as she was carried down what was probably the mountain. _Oh yes, the mountain_. It was all coming back to her now.

"You don't have to be such an ass," someone said. Laney, Lilllian recognized. When had she come back?

"I don't have to, but I like to think it adds to my charm," responded the person carrying her-Lillian could hear him speak, could feel him speak through the thin layer of clothing separating them. Cam.

"You know, we're trying to be patient with you. We really are. We know you had a rough time, but you get a grace period and then it's gone, and you can't be a dick anymore. You'll have to start, I don't know, smiling at people again, or at least not looking like you want to spit in everyone's sweet tea. It's disconcerting." Laney sounded sad even as she tried to joke.

"You're only saying that because you miss out on the face I make _after _I've spit in everyone's sweet tea. It's a really genuine smile, Laney, I can't believe you've missed it."

"See, there you go again. I'm your closest friend, and talking to you exhausts me sometimes. It makes me sad, Cam, and one day even I am going to stop trying."

At this, Lillian felt Cam's hands tighten, and his body sagged with weariness, but he didn't say a thing. Even with her eyes closed, she could just see the wicked grin he probably had on his face, the liar.

"It's quite bold of you to assume you're my closest friend. Ash might beg to differ," he chuckled, not even winded.

"Whatever. Just try not to make her hate you," Laney's whole sentence sounded like a sigh, and Cam quickly interrupted, or tried to.

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. I can see what you're doing. It's the stupidest thing I've ever seen, but I get it." Here her voice softened, so much that Lillian almost lifted her head to hear better before remembering that _she was pretending to be passed out, thank you very much. _

"She's not Phillip," Laney continued, barely above a whisper.

Cam seemed to unconsciously pull Lillian closer, so close that her face was against his vest, which smelled today less of lavender and more of chamomile. Of comfort.

"Oh, believe me, I know. Have you looked at her? She's much prettier," he deflected, walking faster and faster down the mountain.

Abruptly, Laney stopped sounding sad, her voice rising loud enough that Lillian almost flinched.

"One day you're going to wake up and no one's going to be there to love you anymore." She stomped down the mountain so emphatically that Lillian could hear her go, could hear each individual footstep.

"Oh, I'm already there," Cam said, saying the words on an exhale so that they barely sounded like words at all. Lillian kept her eyes squeezed shut, desperately hoping that Cam didn't look down and wonder why the girl in his arms looked like she was trying not to sneeze.

For the rest of the way down, she was silent. So was he.

Lillian woke up the next morning, tucked into her bed. Yes, quite literally tucked-someone had taken great care to nestle her under the sheets, to tuck the comforter neatly under her chin. Someone-Cam, she thought, but didn't quite believe, because _come on_-had even taken off her boots, which were placed at the foot of the bed, and left a little glass of water on the kitchen table for her. She gulped it down eagerly.

No longer thirsty, she looked around her small house for a change of clothes. The only Bluebell-appropriate attire she owned was, well, no longer Bluebell-appropriate. If she hadn't already ruined most of the clothing during her first farming adventure, they would have been completely done in during her fainting spell. She was still wearing them, and she couldn't help but wish that the someone-the _not-Cam_-could have at least partially undressed her, because, yeah, that would have been weird, and maybe she would have been creeped out-but _how much dirt was in her bed now_? Dear God, what if there were earthworms in the sheets?

She shuddered and set out to find her outhouse at a dead run. She had no proof that she had an outhouse, of course, but she had seen _Shrek _enough times to know to look for a little building with a moon and star carved into the door, which-aha! There it was, just behind her house. Of course, this outhouse was larger than the one in Shrek, since it contained not only a toilet but also an old clawfoot bathtub, rusted at the faucet but otherwise seeming relatively clean. Except for the spiderwebs. Those would have to go.

She turned on the water-freezing cold, of course-and dropped her earthworm-y clothes to the floor, dipping a toe into the tub with as much trepidation as you would expect from someone dipping a toe into a tub of ice cold water.

Just as she had fully dunked herself, shivering, into the water, a loud knock came at the outhouse door.

"Lillian?" It was Ash. _If one thing actually goes right today, I'll eat my hat. Well. My bandanna. Bonnet? _

"Go away. I don't want to talk to you now or ever."

"Is your voice shaking? Are you okay?"

Lillian's teeth must have been chattering. Not that she could tell-she was so numb that her body felt like clumps of Play-Doh.

"My bathtub water is cold. For your information. Not that you'd care anyway."

"Didn't you see the hot water pump in the back? You just have to turn it on," he said, clearly trying not to laugh. The bastard!

Lillian had _not _seen the hot water pump, had not even thought to look for one, but she couldn't let Ash of all people know that. Not after he already thought so little of her handywoman skills.

"Well, yes, clearly I looked for it. But mine is ...broken. Very broken."

"Oh?" This time, Ash couldn't control his laughter. He let out a loud snort that Lillian decided was decidedly _not _attractive. "I definitely believe you."

There was silence for a moment, and Lillian sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to break it. _One, two-_

"So, Lillian, listen. Laney told me that you were looking for me, and-"

"The absolute _nerve_! Of COURSE I was looking for you! You told me, in no uncertain terms, that you would be there!" Was she still chattering? She hoped not-it would lessen the effect of her anger at a time that she wanted her anger to be absolutely devastating.

Well. Ash didn't sound absolutely devastated, but he did sound a little frustrated, maybe confused.

"Just let me finish, please! Goddess. Look, I couldn't make it, so I told Cam to tell you that. Didn't he escort you there?"

Lillian suddenly felt confused, too. "He...did? But he told me that Rutger asked him to. Not you."

Ash sighed. "Lillian, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have...I should have known that Cam would be weird about this. But I promise that I wanted to be there, I wanted to so, so badly, and I hate that you didn't know that. Please know that."

Lillian's heart was beating fast, so fast that she could feel it under her cheat, beating boom boom boom. She couldn't quite tell if it was excitement-Ash _did _care about her! At least a little!-or anger-THAT RAT BASTARD CAM. She decided on the latter, for now.

"Weird about what, Ash? Seriously, no one ever tells me anything. Why is Cam so incredibly rude to me? And, jeez, why did you trust him?"

Ash sighed again, and Lillian heard a thump as he rested his head against the door of the outhouse.

"I'm sorry, I really am, but it's not my place to tell you. I would say that you should ask Cam himself, but, well, that would probably be a horrible idea. He's been an absolute horror lately." He let out another frustrated huff. "And I trusted him because I wanted to. And I'm an idiot lately when it comes to-" _Another _forceful exhale. Did Ash have any air left in his lungs? Good Lord.

Lillian hardly dared breathe herself, for fear of interrupting him. _When it comes to what? Me? Cam? Everything? _

Instead, she tried to re-direct. "So, why couldn't you come?" She tried to sound subtle, like the answer didn't matter even though, duh, it did. A lot. What was more important than their burgeoning (maybe-one-day-more-than) friendship?

This time Ash just about smacked his head against the side of the outhouse. Maybe he had self-destructive tendencies? It would explain quite a bit.

"I...can't tell you that either, not yet, and Goddess I'm sorry about that."

Lillian slapped her hand on the water, letting it splash a little. Yeah, she was frustrated, too, especially frustrated because it was less than pleasant to sit in a freezing bathtub filled with your own dirt, trying to talk through a door to a handsome man that you were a little bit mad at.

She splashed again. Okay, a lot mad at .

"You can't tell me anything? Seriously? Why are you even here, Ash?"

She could practically hear his blush. "I didn't get to see you last night. I wanted to see you today," he said.

"Well, how is that working out for you?"

"Not well," he admitted. "But I'd rather be talking to you through your outhouse door than not talking to you at all."

"Charming," Lillian deadpanned, even though she was actually quite charmed. Damn his masculine wiles.

They were silent for a few more seconds, before Ash said, "Well, I guess I'll go then," sounding for all the world like a man that wanted to be contradicted.

Lillian didn't contradict him because, well, she was sitting naked in a bathtub, and how forward could she really be, in a town of maybe twenty people? She could only imagine how word got around of youthful debauchery.

So, no, she didn't contradict him. Until…

"Wait, Ash! Wait!" She didn't have a towel. "I don't have a towel! Ash, come back! Can you get me a towel?"

She heard his boots crunching away, and her stomach dropped, visions of running across her farm, dripping wet and naked, running through her head.

But then she heard her farmhouse door close, and the footsteps began to get louder. _Hallelujah amen._

Ash knocked again at the door. "Hey, it's Ash," he said, as if someone else could have heard her shout for the towels and gone to get them. Except, this was Bluebell, so maybe it _could _have been someone else.

"Yeah, um. Come in, I guess? But close your eyes! And cover them with the towel!"

Slowly, the door to the outhouse opened, creaking all the while, and Ash stepped inside, Lillian's white towel smashed against his face. He took careful steps over to her as she guided him around her pile of clothes on the floor, until finally he had deposited the towel into her waiting arms. His eyes were closed the whole time.

"Keep 'em closed," she warned, as she stood up and draped the towel around her body, which she still couldn't really feel. At least she didn't feel cold anymore-small blessings.

"Okay, you can open," she said, and Ash blinked a couple of times, his face red as Lillian's was almost blue.

"Thanks," she said, wondering whether she would have been angry or flattered or excited if he had opened his eyes, before, for just a second.

He nodded, clearly absolutely mortified. He coughed, and then pointed to a shiny pump connected to the tub. There was a bright red handle on the top, marked "hot water."

"Doesn't look broken to me."

Fully dressed, and with almost complete control over her nearly-frostbitten limbs, Lillian marched into town, feeling like a little soldier in her boots. _Left right left, left right left_.

She had begun her day, after the mortifying but slightly exhilerating ordeal with Ash and the towel and the perfectly-functional hot water pump, by feeding Tabitha and by watering her little family of radishes. Tabitha still looked mournful, and her radishes still looked-well, her radishes didn't look like anything, because nothing had yet peeked through the dirt. But she had hope, on both counts, that things would turn around.

But right now, Lillian was focused on something else. Or rather, someone else, who smelled sometimes of lavender, sometimes of chamomile, sometimes of _LIES._

She was on her way to the flower shop, where Ash had told her Cam worked. She had yet to visit this side of town, but she recognized Howard's Cafe from Ash's description, though he had warned her that confronting Cam would probably get her nowhere except on her ass.

"He'd push me?" Lillian had been incredulous.

"Well, no, I was being metaphorical. But I've seen him reduce many a townsperson to tears in less than a minute, so I'd be careful."

And here she was, being careful. She'd worn her favorite scarf, dabbed perfume at her wrists and behind her ears. Chamomile shmamomile-she smelled like vanilla. She smelled-and looked-damn good. Not that she needed Cam to know that, exactly. It just made her feel more powerful. Right.

Lillian was almost to Howard's Cafe, rehearsing her speech to him under her breath- "I don't know who Phillip is, but you're going to have to get over whatever happened with him and started treating me like I'm a person and not a particularly smelly hounddog"-when someone ran into her.

Oracle. Of course. Her friend seemed to have planned the whole interaction, because she was grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, Lillian, I'm glad I caught you. What a pleasant surprise! Have you had time to think on our deal yet?"

Lillian was still grumpy about being rejected by Oracle at the Star-Gazing festival. Yes, she may have fainted, but she hadn't _forgotten_. A Lillian never forgot.

"It's not a deal if I haven't said yes to it."

Oracle cocked her head to one side, her long purple curls falling over her shoulder in waves that made Lillian miss having long hair. "Are you mad? You seem mad. Remind me to work with you on your pout-I think it's meant to look petulant and cute, but really you just look constipated."

Lilian rolled her eyes and reminded herself not to be passive-aggressive. Better to just be aggressive. "Yes, I'm mad. You ignored me at the Star-Gazing Festival, and I felt like _such _a loser, and-"

Oracle's mouth dropped open, and she grabbed Lillian's hands. "LILLIAN! I thought you knew, I'm sorry! That was for your own good. If you came by and sat with me, no one from Bluebell would _ever _want to talk to you again. Believe me. I'm a pariah, remember? An outcast?" She threw her hand over her forehead dramatically before straightening up, still smiling.

"So what do you say, pal? Take down the wicked witch?" She winked, dramatically. Actually, everything she did was dramatic-there's no real need to clarify that from now on.

Lillian remembered the feeling from last night, of being submerged in fluid, unable to breathe or move, of being spoken to and pinched and unable to do anything, anything to stop it. Had that been the Harvest Goddess?

"I'm in," she said, matching Oracle's grin. But before Oracle could grab her in a bear hug-she was already leaning in-Lillian held up a hand.

"I have a condition. There's something I need your help with, and it's not going to be fun," she warned.

"That's my favorite kind of condition," Oracle said seriously. "What's my mission, captain? I already choose to accept it."

Lillian thought about Tabitha, drinking little and eating less, mourning for her baby girl. "I need you to come with me to Konohana."

Oracle's smile grew sneaky. "Aaaaaand? Meet with an illicit lover?"

"No. Steal a baby cow."

Oracle folded her hands over her chest. "No offense, Lillian, but that's somehow both the most boring and most impossible thing that could have come out of your mouth just now. There's no way we can steal a cow from Konohana. Believe me, I've tried."

Before Lillian had a chance to question how and why Oracle had already tried to steal a cow, they were interrupted by a familiar face dressed in red.

"Actually, there is a way," said Laney. "You'll just need my help."


	8. 8: When I Get My Hands On You

**Chapter Eight: When I Get My Hands On You**

Nobody could say that Laney was not a woman of her word. Despite their initial hesitation, Lillian and Oracle had agreed to let Laney help them plan their escapade-if only because she had looked so damned excited at the prospect that Oracle suspected she didn't have any friends. Except Cam, maybe, but could you really count Cam as a friend?

"So, first step is, we have to wait," Laney had told them. She was met with groans, from Lillian because she was impatient to get Baby Tabitha back home, and from Oracle because she was just impatient. Full stop.

But Laney had insisted that there was no way Baby Tabitha would be rescued if they didn't wait until Fall 15-almost a full month away!-because the cow's new owner was unusually vigilant.

"Usually, I would say that we small-towners aren't that careful, don't lock our doors at night, all that garbage-" Laney began.

"Is it really garbage if it's true?" Oracle snapped back. She didn't particularly enjoy Laney's company, or the company of anyone from Bluebell that wasn't Lillian.

Laney ignored her. "_But _Kana's borderline obsessed with his animals. One time, a fox got into the henhouse, and he made all of us attend a funeral service for the two chickens they nabbed. _And _that was during a particularly tense time between Bluebell and Konohana, so that's really saying something."

"So we're screwed." Lillian grunted and sat down on the ground. Her first adventure in Bluebell, over before it really began. She really had to stop getting excited about things.

"No, no, no, I didn't say that," Laney said, and her big blue eyes lit up as they had when she had first interrupted them like a madwoman. "We just have to be strategic. Konohana has their Moon Viewing Festival on the fifteenth of Fall, and they drink like nobody's business that night."

"Even Kana?" Lillian was suspicious.

"Especially Kana. It's the only night he lets his guard down, I think."

If Lillian was suspicious, Oracle was downright hostile. "And why should we trust you? You're not from Konohana, and, to be honest, you have no reason to be nice to us."

Laney narrowed her eyes. "You don't need to know why I want to help you. All you need to know is that, if I don't, you'll never rescue that cow." She looked at Lillian then, recognizing her as the Good Cop in this situation. "Good luck trying to get Ash to help you, or Cam, Goddess forbid. No one else here knows Konohana that well, or would be willing to help you get there. So you're going to have to trust me."

Lillian looked at Oracle, who looked back at her with a sneer that could have juiced a lemon. Lillian was about to tell Laney no, because even if she did think that Laney was right, Oracle was her only real friend here, and she wasn't about to jeopardize that relationship for advice that might have been misleading in the first place.

Laney beat her to the punch. "Or I'll send a letter to Konohana explaining what you're planning and when."

And that's how it happened that, three weeks later, Lillian was pulling on a black beret-it was the closest thing she had to a beanie, okay?-and getting ready to meet Oracle and Laney in the town square.

Looking in the mirror, Lillian realized that her life was well and truly ridiculous. If you'd told BF (Before-Farm) Lillian that, in only a few short months, she would be standing alone in a probably-mildewed house, no Abbott in sight, preparing to steal a baby cow to serve as a companion _for a cow that she already owned and loved more than her own life_? Yeah, BF Lillian wouldn't have believed it.

But then, BF Lillian hadn't ever been to Bluebell. She hadn't been there, and she hadn't known it, and that made all the difference. Because being in Bluebell these past few weeks had certainly been ridiculous, but it had also been ridiculously wonderful. Lillian had a friend in Oracle, and a maybe-just-maybe friend in Laney. And, yes, maybe she had have an archnemesis in Cam, but he was nowhere to be seen recently, off in the city instead of here in the town. She didn't quite know what to call the thing with Ash, but he came around every day, and showed her how to milk Tabitha-she wasn't quite ready to do it on her own yet, but one day-how to feed her, and even how to turn on the hot water in the outhouse. And if he hadn't kissed her yet, or even moved to hold her hand, that was just fine. She was re-learning how to blush. Even with Abbott, it had been a while.

With a smile at her reflection in the mirror, Lillian was off, though she stopped by the barn first to explain to Tabitha what was going on.

"Hey, sweetie T," she crooned through the window. She didn't risk opening the door, as she'd learned through painful trial and error that Tabitha absolutely loved the brisk fall air, and would rush the door at a sprint whenever Lillian opened the barn doors. Lillian hadn't even known that cows could sprint, but there it was.

"We're going to pick up Baby Tabitha," she explained, and Tabitha mooed in response, as if to say, "Please respect my daughter's autonomy and give her a name that is not so derivative of my own. Fool."

"Once she's here, in your arms-legs-well, whatever, once's she's here, we're going to give her a new name and love her more than you can imagine." Tabitha mooed again, louder and longer, so loud and so long that Lillian could hear her as she marched with purpose to the town square to see her friend and maybe-just-maybe friend. To steal a baby cow. Hell yeah.

"You took long enough," Laney grumbled when Lillian arrived. Laney was hugging herself to keep warm, bouncing on her toes, even in heels, but Lillian was warm, huffing and puffing from half-running to the square.

"But God, that beret was worth every second," Oracle said, though it was probably intended mostly to annoy Laney.

"Okay, we're ready, then?" Laney was by now blowing on her fingers, which were red and stiff. She hadn't even worn a jacket.

"You're not even wearing a jacket?" Lillian asked.

"So we're ready, then?" Laney ignored her, insistently turning to walk out of the square and towards the mountain. Lillian shrugged at Oracle, who made a rude gesture behind Laney's back.

Instead of taking the mountain path that Lillian had taken with Cam weeks ago to the Star-Gazing Festival, Laney made her way towards a weeded ditch that did not look very promising, to say the least.

"Ah, it all makes sense now. This was all a vile plan to murder us. I'll admit, Laney, you really had me for a bit, you conniving-"

Laney hissed at Oracle to shut her up. Actually hissed, like a cat. "Would you be quiet? Do you want Rutger to find us?"

As if called by heavenly decree, Rutger's voice sounded from behind a large hedge. "Laney, is that you?"

Laney's eyes widened, more white than blue, and she suddenly sprang at Lillian and Oracle, who were huddled close together. _My God, she really does mean to murder us_, Lillian thought, as she fell, or was pushed violently, into the muddy ditch.

"Yes," Laney said sweetly, stepping out into the light of the square, as Lillian and Oracle. Maybe Rutger would assume they were particularly rowdy toads.

"Sweet girl, whatever are you doing out here? Ladies like yourself should be in bed by this late hour!" Rutger exclaimed. It was eight p.m.

"I know, Rutger, I know, but Dad was struck by inspiration, and you know him! He's been trying to find the perfect herb for these biscuits that just aren't quite right, and just a few minutes ago, he realized that it had to be wild garlic! I volunteered to go out and get some for him, so he could whip up a batch and see if he was right." Even in her mud-addled state, Lillian was amazed that Laney could be so calm and collected in such a bizarre scenario.

Rutger hemmed and hawed. "I don't condone your father allowing you out like this, so vulnerable as you are. I suppose I should escort you back home now."

"No!" Laney almost shouted. "No, I mean. You don't need to do that. I haven't found the garlic yet, and Dad will be so disappointed. How about this," she suggested. "You can come by tomorrow to have the biscuits. I promise you won't be disappointed."

She had him. Even as a newbie, Lillian knew Rutger's weakness for baked goods. "Well, hmmm, I suppose, as long as you're safe."

"Oh, I am. I always am," Laney insisted.

Lillian heard Rutger's heavy footsteps clomping off into the distance just as Oracle broke through the surface of the mud with a screech that mercifully sounded just like that of a hungry owl.

"I am going to _murder you, _in cold blood, and I'm not going to feel even _a little bit guilty_," she howled at Laney, who had by now come over to stand by the side of the ditch.

"That's fine," Laney sniffed, looking at her perfectly polished manicure. "Come on out now, or we're going to miss our window."

With a sucking _glomp_, Lillian and Oracle were able to extract themselves from the mud, with no help from Laney, who rather seemed to be enjoying herself mightily. It was hard to tell in the dark.

"Aren't you worried that Rutger will go and ask Howard about the garlic biscuits?" Oracle said, spitting mud out of her mouth. Lillian had had the good sense to keep her mouth closed, thank you very much.

"Oh, he might."

"And you're not worried that your dad will give you away?" Oracle asked.

Laney smiled, calm and assured. "No. Not at all."

She tossed her head to one side, though her carefully arranged bun didn't move an inch. Lillian was jealous; her beautiful beret had been lost in the mud, and her hair was...well, she didn't want to know what her hair was.

"It's this way," Laney told them, her voice low again, and they crept around the ditch and up an incline that was less steep than the traditional mountain path, but much more wooded. Grasses crept up around Lilllian's ankles as she tried to ignore the tickles of what might have been insects and might have been snakes.

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, as the mud on Lillian's skin dried and began to crack in the cold fall air. The air smelled not of flowers, as it had in the summer, but of air only-crisp and brisk and oh so clear. Lillian breathed in so hard it hurt her nose, but she wasn't sorry; this kind of clean just didn't exist in the city.

"So we've gotta talk about something or I'm going to fall asleep on the way up," Oracle demanded suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"Well, talk then. No one's stopping you," Laney huffed from the front of the pack.

"And they'd better not try," Oracle said under her breath, before raising her voice. "I have a question for you, actually. What's up with Cam?"

"What do you mean?" Laney turned to look at Oracle and Lillian, who was rapidly falling behind. Lillian shrugged at her.

"I mean," Oracle continued, "he treats Lillian like garbage, and then just disappears into the great wide somewhere."

"He didn't disappear. He's in the city, trying to get more business. Everyone knows that," Laney crossed her arms.

"Well, yeah, everyone knows _that_. I'm asking you what you know, as his friend. Or, more than his friend," Oracle's voice sounded like raised eyebrows, it was so suggestive.

"They're not more than friends," Lillian said quietly, remembering what Cam had told her on the mountaintop, about Laney and her mysterious girlfriend.

Laney whipped her head around so fast that a strand of hair finally came out of her bun, resting against her cheek. "What did you say?"

"I...um. I just heard that you were only friends. That's all," Lillian said, chilled at the idea that she had almost accidentally outed Laney. Is that what had just happened? Lilian had not known it was a secret.

"We are." She turned back around and started walking faster, her thin frame curled in on itself, though whether against the wind or against her travelling companions, Lillian couldn't tell. To her surprise, Laney began to talk again. "He's not all bad. Or even mostly bad."

"Coulda fooled me," Oracle snorted.

"It's hard to tell, with Lillian around. He's self-destructive, and angry and sad and lonely. He just doesn't know what to do with all that." Laney's voice was so soft that it barely carried down.

"Well, tough. I'm all of those things every day and I don't take it out on innocent bystanders," Oracle said.

"Oh, of course not," Lillian laughed, and Oracle glared at her.

"Cam had his heart broken once. He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you, but it's true, and I think you remind him of that, Lillian." Laney sounded sad, but Oracle began to laugh wickedly.

"Lillian reminds him of _Phillip_? Shit, Lil, you really have to grow your hair out _now_."

"Who's Phillip?" Lillian asked, her heart thumping quicker as she remembered hearing that name before, from Laney, to Cam. _One day you're going to wake up and no one's going to be there to love you anymore._

No one spoke for a few moments. A few heartbeats of awkward silence. Beat. Beat. Beat.

"A pretty boy who didn't know what was good for him," Oracle finally said.

"You're going to have to tell me, you know!" Lillian knew she sounded like a petulant toddler, but she didn't care. "I know I'm new, and everyone has a history here except me, but has it ever occurred to you that I'm never going to be a part of anything if nobody lets me in?"

"And you were doing so well at quitting those little rants of yours," Oracle said, winking at her, but Laney seemed to be taking her seriously. She was silent for another second, and then she began to talk.

"Phillip was a boy. A man, I guess, since he was nineteen, but he was really only ever a boy. So beautiful it hurt to look at him."

"Those _curls,_" Oracle whispered.

"He came to Bluebell a couple of years ago, on a summer vacation, and he was about as helpless as you are now, Lillian. No offense intended."

"None taken." How could she take offense? She still hadn't milked a cow, for God's sake.

"He rented out a room from us, from me and my dad, and his room was across the hall from mine and Cam's. We were best friends there for a while, all of us and Ash. We were the same age, and Phillip was just. Electric, I guess. It's hard to explain, but you know how you just know some people, and you know they're probably no good for you, but they feel good for you, and that's always going to win."

Lillian nodded before realizing that it was by now too dark to see. "Yeah." She was surprised that she wasn't thinking of Abbott.

"That's how Phillip was for all of us. As friends for me and Ash, but more than friends for Cam. He was so in love with him that it was painful to see, because even though we all loved him, Ash and I loved him in a softer way. Like when you know something's going to leave, you love it like you're already thinking goodbye. Cam wasn't thinking anything but I love you."

_I know what that's like_, Lillian thought, though by now the thought of being left without the goodbye felt less like a tragedy and just like another part of her story. Even so, she knew where this was going, and her heart quaked a little.

"And then he went back to college, just like we always knew he would. But Cam hadn't known, I guess he had allowed himself to forget. Phillip left without even a note, without even a kiss or a hug or anything, which was sad for me and Ash, but I think it broke the part of Cam that knows how to love somebody."

"Oh, that's absolutely not true," Lillian said, louder than she had expected. By now, they were descending down the side of the mountain, her steps coming easier, her breaths longer and deeper. "Bad things happening to you don't make you stronger, but they also don't make you broken. They just mean that a bad thing has happened to you. That's it. What you do with it is up to you. Cam's not broken. He's just sad and mean. That doesn't have to be forever."

"She wants to get in his pants," Oracle said knowingly, and Lillian kicked a shower of dirt at her.

"But it's not your job to try to make him less sad, or less mean, and you probably shouldn't try," Laney warned.

"I know," Lillian said. "Believe me, I know."

If Lillian had expected to see Konohana in all of its glory, she was mistaken. The villagers must have all doused their lamps-living room, porch, streetlights-because the town was dark as pitch.

"How are we going to get a cow out of here? I can't tell my ass from my elbow," Oracle tried to whisper, though in the near-silence it sounded like a shout.

"That sounds like a you problem," Laney said. "Dumb and dumber: follow the sound of my voice."

Lillian and Oracle bumped into each other with an _oof _before righting themselves and following the sound of Laney's breathing, which was reassuringly steady. _At least one of us isn't nervous_.

"We're here," Laney said, so quickly that Lillian had to sway backwards so as not to run into Oracle, who just said, "Slow your rollers, kid, I'm breakable."

Lillian had been a farmer long enough (three weeks, yes ma'am!) to recognize the smell of a barn-the sweetness of the hay mixed with the sour, acrid scent of manure. They were here.

As Laney creaked open the barn door, an eruption of sounds rolled towards them, almost deafening in the quiet. Lillian could hear mostly neighing, and the stamping of hooves-these must be Kana's horses. But beneath that, quieter but just as insistent, was a sweet, deep lowing that could only be Baby Tabitha.

Before any of them could even take a step forward, Lillian was rushed by a black-and-white figure, moving at a dead run from the darkness. The shape bowled into her knees, knocking her over, and continued out into the starlit night.

"Baby Tabitha," Lilian whispered in awe. She came by her love of freedom and fall air honestly.

"Goddess damn it all," Laney said, rushing out the door after the cow.

"You look like a real dumbass," Oracle hooted, helping Lillian to her feet. The two girls left the barn, following Laney, but they stopped in their tracks almost immediately.

There stood Ina, lit by a small lantern she held by her side. She had stopped Baby Tabitha, gripping her collar in her other hand. The animal was bucking wildly and trying to get away, but Ina wasn't paying her any mind.

She was looking at Laney, who was looking at her. She was standing almost a yard away, and Lillian couldn't see her face. She wondered if it looked like Ina's: almost impassive, but not quite. It was almost too dark to see the little bit of love that flickered in her eyes by the light of the flame.

Laney took a few steps forward and, without saying a word, took the cow from Ina. Ina didn't move, didn't blink, just uncurled her fingers to let the collar slip through her fingers. Her eyes never left Laney.

Laney turned then, bringing the wild animal to Lillian, who looped the rope she'd thankfully remembered to bring through the collar. Baby Tabitha seemed to know then that she'd been had; she calmed considerably, leaning her flank against Lillian's thighs. Nobody had said a word, which was a minor miracle, considering the fact that Oracle was present for the whole event.

Ina finally looked past Laney to Lillian, nodded, and then left without a word. Just as silent, Laney started to walk away, back to the hidden pass from which they had come. For once, Oracle served as the reasonable one, running back to close the barn door before catching up with Lillian. The two girls looked at each other, then at Laney, then back at each other. Oracle shrugged. "Good for her," she whispered, and Lillian thought she saw Laney clench her fists.

As they climbed back down the mountain, it began to drizzle, slow and steady. It was a cold rain, and it began to melt the mud from Lillian's pores, from her hair. None of them had spoken much on the way back; all three seemed to be lost in thought, separate and distinct from one another in a way that they had not been on the climb up.

As they began the descent to Bluebell, Oracle suddenly spoke, startling Lillian and even Baby Tabitha, who let out a soft "moo."

"So I'm gonna go home. Catch up with me tomorrow, Lil. Now we're even." She peeled off from the group, walking towards a patch of trees that Lillian assumed held her home. It hadn't even occurred to her to consider where Oracle lived, and she wondered now if that made her a bad friend.

"Yeah, bye," she said, though it was a bit too late now, and her voice sounded out of practice. She was uncomfortable now, and cold, and missing her beret more than she cared to admit. But now that she was talking, she might as well keep going. She turned to Laney, who had kept several steps ahead of her the whole trip, never looking back.

"Hey, Laney, I'm sorry if I revealed too much to Oracle. Cam told me that you liked women, and I guess I should have assumed that it was a secret, but I didn't, and I'll be more discreet next time-"

Without turning to her, Laney spoke. "It's not a secret. Not that. I think you know what is, now." And she picked up her pace, apparently expecting Lillian to find her own way back down the mountain, which was definitely not a given.

She did her best, picking her way through the weeds as the rain picked up around her. The wind was howling by now, which seemed to scare Baby Tabitha, who was pressing so hard against Lillian's legs that she could barely walk straight. But, oh, here was the ditch, which must mean they were almost to the town square. Which meant they were almost home. Home, where Tabitha was waiting to see her baby girl, where Lillian would be able to curl into bed under a blanket that by now smelled like home, where-

"Lillian?"

Even in the pouring rain, Lillian could tell that this was Ash, and she knew that she was in big trouble. It wasn't as if she could hide Baby Tabitha under her coat.

"Um, yes?" She could see Ash coming closer to her, his form wavering through the rain droplets. Only when he was just in front of her did he become clear; he was soaked, his brown hair seeming almost red as it plastered against his forehead. His eyelashes, absurdly long, stuck together as if glued.

"What in Goddess's name…" He trailed off, clearly frustrated, even angry. He grabbed her wrist, gently but firmer than she would have expected, and half-dragged her (and Baby Tabitha) to his porch. Out of the rain, finally, Ash took the rope from Lillian's hands and tied it around the railing. Baby Tabitha sat down with a thump, clearly exhausted. It had been a long day for such a small cow!

He grabbed her hand, the one that had held the rope, and they both winced at the same time-she because the rope had cut into her palm, and it hurt, and he because he saw that. "Why would you do this?" He still held her hand, palm up, and his voice was deep, and low. Quiet, but firm. "I was handling it, Lillian, I was-"

"What?" Her voice was a whisper, because who knew where Jessica and Cheryl were, but come on? Handling it?

He looked up at her then. "This whole time, I swear to the Goddess. I was working with Kana, to try to organize a trade." He brushed his hands through his wet hair, which stuck up in spikes. "It hasn't been easy, because he's attached to her, but I was finally getting him to come around. And now he's going to think that I _stole his cow_."

Lillian was almost speechless, but she found some words anyway. "You were working with Konohana? Rutger will kick you out of town if he finds out."

"We don't all agree with Rutger."

A thought occurred to Lillian, and her stomach dropped like a lead ball. "So the night of the Star-Gazing Festival…"

Ash looked away. His cheeks were red. He was still holding her hand, practically cradling it. "Kana suddenly agreed to meet me, and I didn't have time to tell you. I'm still really sorry about-"

Lillian cut him off, standing on her tip-toes and pressing her lips against his. He tasted of peaches, and she had the presence of mind to wonder how, because peaches were out of season, when Ash dropped her hand and reached up to cup her face, and suddenly she had no presence of mind at all.

His mouth opened against hers, and his thumb stroked the side of her cheek as he slowly walked her backwards, backwards, until her back was against the side of the house. The rain blew in sideways, sticking Ash's white shirt to his chest, which was all muscle, and Lillian reached out with shaking fingers to rest her hand gently against his chest. Less gently, his hand lowered to her waist, gripping tightly just above her hipbone, and Lillian vaguely wondered how he managed to do so many things at once when she could barely concentrate on moving her lips in time with his.

Their hips were pressed together, and he suddenly dipped his head, kissing down her neck with touches that were soft as a butterfly kiss but felt like drips of candle wax. She tilted her head back, knowing in some back corner of her mind that they were on his mother's porch, looking out onto the town square of a _very _small town, but the other nine-tenths of her brain was putting in a formal request that Ash never, ever stop what he was doing right now, unless it was to go even further.

Just then, by the grace of God or the Goddess or perhaps just plain luck, lightning cracked across the sky, startling Baby Tabitha into a moo-ing fit. Ash jumped backwards, almost tripping over the cow, and Lillian was a little shocked to see how rumpled he looked: his hair was a mess, his lips were swollen, and his shirt was untucked from his overalls; she could practically see her handprint just above his heart. _I did that_.

"I should probably go," she whispered.

"You could probably stay," he whispered back, and Lillian wanted to, but didn't want to, and wasn't sure what that meant, so she said, "I should probably go," with a smile that she hoped conveyed all that she was feeling.

Ash nodded, smiled back, and untied the rope from the railing, placing it in Lillian's uninjured hand. "I don't know what you're doing to me," he said to her, looking into her eyes so directly that she felt more vulnerable than she had with his hands on her body.

"Neither do I," Lillian whispered, and walked back into the rain with Baby Tabitha. She smiled the whole way home.


	9. 9: Stand By Your Gun

**Chapter Nine: Stand By Your Gun**

"It smells like shit in here."

Lillian sat up, slowly, slowly, blinking in the direction of the voice that she couldn't quite place at the moment. Everything hurt-legs, arms, head, but, oh God, her neck felt like someone had tried to wrench it backwards while she slept. While she slept-

Oops. Lillian's eyes had just adjusted to the light, where she saw Cam standing framed in the doorway of her barn. Her _barn_. In a moment of insight, she remembered bringing baby Tabitha back home to her mother-a reunion that had made her weep like a _Foundation for a Better Life _commercial-and then falling asleep almost immediately. She had been exhausted enough that the hay bale by the door had been infinitely more appealing than her comfortable bed only about ten yards away. Well, there was no accounting for taste, especially when dealing with the almost terminally exhausted.

But, no, even remembering this didn't help Lillian make sense of the scene in front of her. Something was quite wrong. Cam was holding a bouquet in his hands, bright red roses that she could probably have smelled from here if not for the, well, manure. Lillian wanted to believe that Cam was here to profess that his love for her had transformed from nonexistent to undying in her absence. This might seem a bit strange, but, truly, who amongst us has not wished for the startlingly handsome, horrifyingly aloof floral grocer in our own town to declare that he loves us, only us, and that the reason he insinuated that we were a trollopy blight was solely _because _of that love?

But Lillian was denied the chance to spit at Cam's feet-God, she relished any opportunity to be _that _dramatic-because he was not here to confess any kind of love, let alone the undying kind. And, really, both we and Lillian should have guessed this: what kind of man begins a declaration of love by saying, "It smells like shit in here?"

"It smells like-"

"I heard you the first time. It's funny, but I didn't even notice the smell until you walked in. It's not really fair to blame the cows, then, is it?" Lillian's delivery wasn't very satisfying, since her voice was croaky the way voices always are when they haven't been used in a while, because the owner of the voice has been asleep in a bale of hay.

"You were asleep. You couldn't smell anything before I walked in." _Why _did he have to look so smug?

"Oh, whatever. What're you here for, anyway? I'm assuming you didn't come all the way from town to deliver me flowers."

Cam mimed shock, pouted. "What, you don't think I care about you? I guess _Cosmo _got it all wrong; girls _don't_ want brooding bad boys who treat them like hot garbage. Who knew?" He shrugged. "Your loss, hot stuff." He tossed the bouquet to Lillian, who wished that she didn't have to flounder so much to keep them from crashing to the floor.

She looked at the roses, beautiful and deeper red than rubies, the petals crisp and covered in light droplets of dew. Despite herself, she was impressed with Cam's stock. "And these are from…?"

"I'm just the messenger," Cam said. "I didn't think he'd expect me to teach you how to read, too."

Just then, Lillian saw the little white tag on the side of the stems. Her name was written in handwriting that was surprisingly neat, all in capital letters. What was it about boys that made them want to write in all capital letters? But Lillian was charmed nonetheless, and she was charmed even more by the short message inside the card: "For me, that was magic." Ash had written his name in tiny little capital letters at the end of the message. Five words and two names, and Lillian's face was almost as red as the roses. Surely this much of a blush could be fatal?

Cam was still standing awkwardly by the door, and Lillian wondered suddenly if he had read the message, if Ash had told him what had happened-they were friends, after all, and Lillian was surely going to tell Oracle every single detail of what had happened. Ash was surely justified in doing the same, but good God, this was embarrassing.

"I don't really have any money out here," Lillian said, looking up from the roses, determined to break the silence. "So I can't tip you for delivering these-"

"I don't expect a tip." He turned to go.

"Maybe not, but I expect you to take one anyway, or I'll feel like a Baby Boomer." Cam's mouth wiggled slightly. Discomfort, or an attempt to restrain a smile?

"Whatever you're offering, I likely don't want it." If it had ever been a smile, Cam had certainly restrained it successfully.

"You can pet my cow."

"Is that a euphemism that I'm just not familiar with? If so, I definitely don't want it." Ah, now he was smiling, though not quite earnestly.

Lillian snorted despite herself. She got up and brushed the hay off of her clothes before walking to the back corner of the barn where Tabitha and Baby Tabitha slept soundly. She beckoned Cam over, and, to her surprise, he walked over, slowly and quietly, as if sensing that he didn't want to wake up the cows.

"They're reunited," Lillian whispered to him. "Just last night." Cam was by now standing just beside her, towering over her to look down on the animals. They were sleeping, cuddled into each other like nesting dolls. Baby Tabitha was snoring slightly. In her peripheral vision, when he didn't know she was looking, Cam was smiling ever so slightly.

"Do I want to know how you made this happen?"

"Probably not. Liability and all. Just imagine any scene from _Kill Bill _and you'll be pretty close." They were still whispering, and Lillian was just a little bit thankful to Cam that he was at least respectful to the cows if he wasn't to her.

Lillian knelt down and began to stroke Baby Tabitha's little head-although, truly, even the head of a baby cow is quite large, but metaphorically she was a little baby, so that's how Lillian thought of her. "Hi, Baby Tabitha," she crooned, and Cam whisper-snorted. What a skill.

"Did you seriously name your cows Tabitha and Baby Tabitha? They must resent you quite a bit; make sure you bolt those barn doors whenever you leave or you'll have an _Animal Farm _in here." Even as he said it, though he was crouching down next to Lillian, holding his hands still at his sides, strangely hesitant to reach out. 

"I'm going to name her soon. I just haven't come up with anything yet, and I want to get it just right for her," Lillian said, even quieter now that they were closer to the animals, who still seemed to be sleeping soundly. She looked to Cam, who seemed oddly nervous. "You should pet her."

"She's not a cat."

"That doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy being touched. Being comforted," Lillian was scratching behind the baby cow's ears. "And it makes you happy to be the one comforting her."

Cam was staring straight ahead, not looking at Lillian or the cows. "You mean it makes _you _happy. It would make _me _feel covered in fleas."

"She's _clean_, you bastard," she said, offended, though, honestly, she didn't know if Baby Tabitha was clean, since she'd only been in her possession for about eight hours. She probably was, right?

Cam didn't say anything, so Lillian reached out tentatively to grab Cam's hand. He started at the touch, and Lillian almost did, too; his hands looked soft, they were so pale, but the palms of his hands were rough, calloused, covered in small cuts. _From the roses_?

Lillian heard a quick intake of breath, but Cam didn't jerk away, and so she brought his hand slowly to Baby Tabitha's head. The cow suddenly blinked her eyes open; they were big and a deep muddy brown, surrounded by thick lashes.

Cam gasped ever so quietly, and made to take his hand away, but Baby Tabitha instead nuzzled his hand, licking gently at his fingers. Cam laughed deep in his throat. "She likes you," Lillian said, only just conscious that she was smiling.

"She's just looking for salt," Cam said, but his voice was gentle, more mellow than Lillian had ever heard him. He was smiling softly, and as Lillian took her hand away, he began to pet Baby Tabitha without any guidance. It _did _seem like the baby cow liked Cam, even more than Lillian, which seemed unfair, being as Lillian had been the one who had made a midnight trek to rescue her from perdition, but alas.

"I think you should name her Marnie," Cam said without looking at Lillian.

"Marnie," Lillian tried it out, and it felt right, and she wondered why. "Why? Is that name, um, special to you somehow?" _I sound like a therapist digging to uncover childhood trauma._

Cam looked solemnly up at her. "It was my mother's name," he said wistfully, before looking away.

"Oh," Lillian said, hearing the "was" and feeling like a real monster for prying, when Cam looked back at her with a grin.

"God, Lillian, you're so bizarre. I'm only joking. My mother's name is Sue. She lives downtown." He stood up then, brushing his hands at the knees of his trousers to get the dust out. "I just like the name Marnie. Feel free to go with something else if you want." He shrugged and headed for the door.

"Thank you for the roses," Lillian blurted just before he left. He turned.

"They're not from me."

"Thank you anyway." Thinking of the cuts on his hands.

He nodded back. "Thank you for the ...tip. You're officially a Millenial, through and through." He inclined his head to the cow, smiled just a little in the corner of his mouth, and walked out.

Lillian made it back to her house almost an hour later, having brushed out Tabitha and Marnie's coats until they gleamed. _Let no man criticize _my _cows in _my _barn_. She was looking forward to a bath herself; she felt grimy, and had a sneaking suspicion that she now smelled as much of cow manure as the barn did. She just needed to grab a towel, and then she could be on her way to the outhouse, which she had _finally _figured out how to use properly. Cold baths were a remarkably effective incentive. She didn't make it to her towel drawer, however; she didn't even make it past the front door. Oracle was seated there, criss-cross-apple-sauce, wearing a bright purple velour jumpsuit. Dear God.

"You smell like _shit!" _Oracle exclaimed when Lillian came into her line of sight. Even so, she jumped up and practically skipped towards her. "I missed you!"

"It's been one night," Lillian reminded her, and Oracle shrugged.

"A night when _someone _got busy, apparently," she said, waggling her eyebrows, and Lillian's stomach dropped to the soles of her shoes as she wondered who else knew about her kiss with Ash the night before. "I didn't think you were into Cam, although, I mean, how could you _not _be, but I guess I was wrong. The barn, though, Lillian? I know they call it a roll in the hay, but they don't mean it literally. I question your sanity sometimes, my friend," she said, tugging Lillian into her own home as if Lillian were the guest.

"Cam wasn't here for me," Lillian admitted, as Oracle grabbed a towel from the drawer-how did she know where Lillian kept the towels?-and threw it to her.

Oracle raised another eyebrow; they were getting quite a workout today. "Is there another cute-as-hell, spunky little pixie living on the property? Who else would he be here for?" Her voice dropped. "Don't say the cows."

Lillian tried to raise an eyebrow back, but her eyes went with it, so she imagined she probably just looked unhinged. "Well, first of all, thank you. I think. Second, he was here on behalf of someone else, bringing me flowers that they had ordered."

"Someone? They? Who's they, Lillian? You can't just leave me hanging!"

Lillian felt her cheeks redden. "Ash."

Oracle looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly enjoying this. "Hmmm….I wouldn't have guessed it of him, but the boy really knows how to leave a hickey." She made a clicking noise with her mouth, gesturing to Lillian's collarbone. "Glorious work, truly. Makes you wonder."

Lillian nearly jumped out of her skin, trying to tilt her chin down to see the hickey. She had gone twenty-two years of her life without a hickey, and now? Now that she was an adult, a landowner? She could just see if out of the corner of her eye. Thank God for foundation.

Oracle was still laughing as she sat down on Lillian's bed. "Oh calm down, calm down. You can just cover it up and no one will know." _Cam will_. The thought came unbidden to Lillian's mind, and she shoved it back down with a _Who cares_ for good measure.

"Anyway, sweet Lil, I didn't come here to congratulate you on a tryst well done-although, well done!" Her black eyes glittered with mischief. "I came here because I held up my end of the deal, and Baby Tabitha's back-"

"Marnie," Lillian corrected, and Oracle shrugged.

"And now that _Marnie _is back where she belongs, we need to get to work on overthrowing the Harvest Goddess."

"Could you maybe make it sound a little bit less sinister?"

"Probably not."

"Okay. Okay." Lillian took a breath. "So. Overthrowing a goddess. What's step one?"

Oracle grinned. "Step one is taking a bath, because the Goddess will most definitely know something is up if you go to pay homage smelling like a barnyard."

"Pay homage?" Lillian had been told that she smelled so much today that this part of the comment did not even faze her a bit.

"Yep! You're going to climb up the mountain and finally meet the Harvest Goddess! Ta-da!" She shouted, kicking out a foot like a showgirl. All she needed was the headdress.

Lillian neglected to tell Oracle that she thought perhaps she _had _already met the Harvest Goddess, the night of the Star-Gazing Festival. Nothing had happened since then, and Lillian was hoping that this had just been a bad dream fueled by the fact that Cam had been carrying her at the time, and that would give anybody a night terror.

"I'll do it." Lillian said, because what else was there to say? If the Harvest Goddess had somehow infiltrated her brain, she wanted to know what she was up against. Although the idea of trekking back up the mountain made her want to curl back into the hay bale.

"Oh, I knew you would," Oracle smiled lazily. "Now the question is, will you do it right?"

"Yes?"

"Sound less insecure! Back straight, arms at your sides!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Lillian barked, and Oracle laughed deeply.

"Good. You _will _do it right. You just can't ...act like yourself, okay? You'll have to seem humble, and submissive, and you can't let in even a pip of sarcasm."

"How did _you _manage this?"

"I didn't. Why do you think she hates me? You're our blank slate, our chance to trick her into giving up her own tricks. Just tell her that you are a new farmer in town, and that you are new to the ways of the Harvest Goddess or whatever."

"Just pretend that I'm talking to L. Ron Hubbard, then."

"Exactly! Scientology for farmers," Oracle said, and then cleared her throat and jumped off the bed.. "Alright, Lil. Good luck; you'll need it. Just kidding. Except, not really." Lillian swatted her with the towel. "Seriously, though, I gotta go. A former lover is back in town," she said dramatically, pretending to swoon, but Lillian could tell that she was actually excited.

"Who?" Lillian demanded, remembering suddenly that Cam was back in town today, and wondering if maybe…

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Oracle said with a wink, and was off.

The climb up the mountain seemed somehow much more arduous by herself than it had with Laney and Oracle the night before. She knew where she was going, because Oracle had left a little map on her pillow, with an X-marks-the-spot over a blue blob on the mountain that must be the Harvest Goddess's pool.

With her, Lillian brought one of her radishes-they had finally come in, small and malnourished, somehow, but _edible!_-and a jar of milk from Tabitha. They were to serve as offerings for the Goddess, to convince her that Lillian was truly willing to serve her-or that, at the very least, she wasn't plotting her destruction.

By the time she made it to the top of the mountain, Lillian could hardly breathe for her exhaustion, and her muscles felt like perhaps they had given up entirely. She didn't blame them. But they were here now, and Lillian couldn't help but breathe deeper up here-and not just because her lungs were demanding more oxygen. The air seemed cleaner up here, carrying the smell of wildflowers-and wild garlic, which made Lillian smile. _Did Howard ever make those garlic biscuits_, she wondered, but only for a second, because from here she could see the skyscrapers of the city.

The buildings seemed so much smaller from here, as if they were just playthings instead of buildings with hundreds of offices and apartments holding thousands of people. Holding her mother, holding Abbott. It was strange to think about them now, when they had been such a big part of her life for so long and were now memories. It was unsettling to realize that neither felt quite real, that they seemed less like real people that she had known and loved and hated, and more like doll people living in dollhouses, far far away. She shivered, and looked away, at the map instead. She was here.

The pool was just beyond the mountaintop, a little to the right, behind a large hedge that was clearly been upkept by someone who truly believed in the Harvest Goddess. _I guess by coming here to overthrow her, I'm proving that I believe in her, too_, Lillian thought, and that, too, was strange.

When she came around the bend to look at the pool, Lillian had to stifle a gasp. It was beautiful in a way that natural things usually aren't; the shoreline was a perfect oval, as if someone had reached down from above with a cookie cutter to create it. The water was the color of an emerald, a bright green that spoke not of algae but of jewels and sparkle and grandiosity, and the sand along its edge was a pure silver-white. Save the hedge, there was no wildlife around-not a tree or a bush stood by, nor did any animals rustle or lap at the water. Lillian was alone.

She stepped closer, and, as Oracle had told her to do, placed her offerings onto the shore. Though seconds before, the water had been completely still, a wave now rocked from the center of the pool to the offerings, sweeping them under without so much as a sigh. For a moment, nothing happened, and Lillian didn't quite know what to do-she hadn't been a very good Catholic, but she'd been to a Mass or two in her day, and she figured that she'd be able to adjust a Hail Mary to fit this situation-

"Lillian Faye."

Lillian started out of her imagination, looking up at the water, where a woman had surfaced to her waist without making a sound. To look at her was jolting, since something didn't look quite right. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with purple-silver skin that reflected the sun as if it was made up of small scales-perhaps, Lillian thought, it was. Her eyes were huge and as emerald green as the water, but there were no pupils that Lillian could see, only an endless sea of green, surrounded by pale white lashes, long as spider's legs. Her lips were the same silver as the rest of her face, and her teeth, when she smiled before she spoke again, were ever so slightly sharpened.

But still, she was beautiful, and Lillian was almost entranced by the sound of her voice, which was not high and sharp as a bell, as she would have expected-weren't goddesses supposed to sound like bells ringing?-but deep and almost grating, carrying power effortlessly with every word.

"I've been waiting to see you, Lillian-come-again."

"I, uh, pardon?"

"You are not the first Lillian I have encountered here," spoke the Harvest Goddess, and Lillian remembered her aunt, and remembered how she had died, and tried not to tremble.

"I brought you offerings from my farm," Lillian said, not knowing how to respond. She bowed, and then felt silly, and curtsied, and then stood still as a stone.

"My farm. You only borrow it, as Lillian-first-met borrowed it before you. Others will borrow it from me when you are gone." Was this a threat, or just a reminder that time passes? And, for that matter, why did every reminder that time inevitably passes feel like a threat anyway?

"Yes, Harvest Goddess. Which is why I returned to you milk from the cow that I borrow from you, and a radish from the earth that is yours," Lillian said, trying to sound wise as the Goddess but fearing that she sounded like a poor man's Bilbo Baggins. She'd only seen _the Lord of the Rings _once or twice.

"Noted." She did not sound grateful, but then again, she didn't sound anything at all-her voice didn't convey emotion the way that voices should. "For what purpose have you come here?" She asked.

"To pay homage," Lillian said, knowing for sure now that she sounded like a fool, speaking words that were not hers and didn't real.

"To pay homage? Perhaps. Though you knelt at a different altar last night." She gestured with long, webbed hands to Lillian's collarbone, to the purple mark that was completely covered in foundation. Lillian shivered and didn't speak; it didn't seem that there was a right thing to say.

"Your mother taught you well, I see. Did you teach you to steal that which is not yours, as well?" The Harvest Goddess cocked her head to the side, looking for all the world like a bird ready to strangle a worm from its shelter. "Begone, Lillian-come-again. Someone seeks you, and they seek without a smile." Lillian blinked, and the Harvest Goddess was gone, again without a sound or a ripple. Another wave of water curled towards the shoreline, and Lillian's offerings reappeared, though the radish had half-rotted, covered in maggots and leeches, and the milk was curdled yellow inside the jar. Lillian took a deep breath so as not to vomit, and ran out onto the mountaintop, around the side of the hedge. She did not pick up the offerings; she would not take what the Goddess had left behind.

Although, apparently she should have at least heeded the Goddess's last warning, because when she came to the mountaintop, gulping in air as if she were dying, there stood a man, staring out at the city, facing away from her.

At the sound of her footsteps, he turned to Lillian, and she almost jumped. The man was perhaps a year or two older than her, his skin and eyes a deep brown. His tightly curled hair was pulled up in a neat bun on top of his head, but the rest of him was, well, a mess. His face was streaked in tears, his eyes swollen from crying. His fingernails looked bitten down to their core, and his clothes looked as if he had put them on backwards in the dark. Without ever having met him before, Lillian knew that this was Kana, and she was ashamed despite herself.

"Are you Lillian?" His voice was deep but shaky, as if he was still trying to control his sobs. He probably was.

"Yes," she said cautiously, wondering what Kana would do, Kana who loved his animals so very much, Kana whose animal she had stolen while he had spent only one night away. She blushed in embarrassment.

He didn't seem to notice. "The, uh, the Harvest Goddess said that you might know where my baby cow is." _Bitch_. He looked down at his feet. "I don't mean to imply that you, um, you know, stole her, but if you know anything-"

"I did. I stole her," Lillian blurted, and then wondered where her self-preservation instinct had run off to.

Kana looked up at her sharply, but he didn't look angry, only so mournful that Lillian's heart hurt with his. "Why?"

Lillian racked her brain for reasons that wouldn't take the rest of the day to explain- "yes, I know that you were negotiating with Ash to bring the cow back to be with her mother, but no, I didn't know it at the time, and yes, I should have waited, but"-and all she could think of was to nod her head down the side of the mountain to Bluebell. "Come with me, and I'll show you. Please."

If Lillian had expected Kana to hesitate, either out of anger at her or out of fear of Bluebell itself, she was mistaken. Kana had immediately nodded at her request. "Take me to her," he had said, and she had led the way to Bluebell, suddenly forgetting her muscle aches and her fear of the Harvest Goddess. It was amazing how roiling guilt could erase every other feeling, even the bad ones.

She hadn't bothered to make small talk on the way down, and neither had he, which made the long walk seem that much longer. Before they reached town square, Lillian had darted out to check to make sure the coast was clear; it was afternoon, but there weren't actually that many citizens in Bluebell, so she hoped that it would be empty. It was-perhaps God was on her side, even if the Harvest Goddess so clearly wasn't.

She gestured quickly to Kana to cross the town square, but before he could make a move, a voice whispered out from the other side of the ditch.

"You really are as dumb as you look," Cam said quietly.

"Goddess, Cam," Ash said, but his eyes were on Lillian alone. Despite everything, she blushed.

"I know you fancy her six roses worth, but she truly must have only that many brain cells," Cam said, and now it was Ash's turn to blush. He didn't seem to notice Cam's insults, which maybe should have irritated Lillian, but didn't. "You were going to bring a Konohanan into our town square? Do you want Rutger to kill you?"

"Rutger _wishes _he could catch me," Lillian said, "And besides. I looked out to see anyone was there."

"Did you see us?" Cam asked, mock patient.

"Well, no…"

"Then maybe I was wrong-maybe you _do _have at least a couple dozen brain cells. You just need some glasses."

Ash kicked at Cam's foot. "We didn't come over here to berate her," he said gently to his friend. He turned to Lillian. "He's an ass, but he's right. Half of Bluebell is old enough that they spend most of their time sitting in armchairs by the window."

Lillian couldn't help but remember last night-she and Ash had been in plain sight of quite a few windows, after all-but she stifled that thought before she lost her mind. Throughout the whole conversation, Kana had been silent, but now he spoke up.

"Can't we just go around?"

Cam and Ash looked at Kana, then looked at each other, then shrugged. Ash smiled kindly at Kana; clearly the two men knew each other at least a little, maybe through their shared love of animals. Lillian wished that she had had the foresight to wait just a little before she had stolen Marnie; Kana and Ash could probably have worked something out between themselves, and then Kana wouldn't look like someone had taken his heart out of his chest and snapped it right in two.

Cam led the way around the edge of the ditch, so that their little group was behind a grove of trees as they skirted town square. Ash lingered back a bit, to walk next to Lillian. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and purposefully dropped his hands to brush his knuckles against hers. She did her best not to think about where else she wanted his hands-her face, her hips, everywhere-because Kana was only about one yard behind them, and Cam only about one yard ahead. Even so, she could feel her heart beat faster, faster, faster.

After a few minutes of walking, Cam turned to them and whispered, "No houses," before stepping out onto the road. They were across the road from Lillian's farm, and no other houses were close enough for casual onlookers to witness what may or may not have been treason. Was it still called treason if there wasn't a king?

They filed one by one up the tiny path to Lillian's farm, and once they set foot on her land, Lillian immediately felt more at ease. It was private here, hedged in by rows of trees, and, look, there were both of her cows, standing just by the door of the barn as if they had heard them coming. Marnie mooed loudly, and Kana burst into a run.

Cam snorted. "Okay, Liam Neeson," he said, and Lillian felt bad when she wanted to laugh. She didn't. Instead she and Ash ran quickly over to Kana's side, leaving Cam by the house.

Kana was crying again. "She's okay," he said quietly to himself.

"She's okay," Ash reassured him, a hand on his arm. "I promise you, Lillian wouldn't hurt her." He looked at Lillian then, and his eyes were warm, even though they didn't have to be; she had done a bad thing, and she knew it.

Tabitha was standing over Marnie protectively, and Kana looked up at her. "This is Tabitha," Lillian explained. "She is Baby's mom. She missed her so much. She wouldn't stop crying, she wouldn't eat right." She looked at Kana, who looked at her. He looked sad, but less broken up than he had at the mountaintop.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am that I took her," Lillian told him, and she meant it.

"I was going to….I didn't mean to hurt them. Please don't think that. I didn't think that they would be so heartbroken apart, and when Ash told me, I…" He looked at Marnie then, and stroked her small head. She nudged him gently, with what could only be love.

"I know that, and I'm sorry that I didn't know that then. I didn't think there was any other way, but there was, and I should have asked Ash." She steeled herself, set her spine straight. "But I have to ask you to let her stay here. I'll do anything you want, I'll send you Tabitha's milk until I've paid her off, or I can let you come to sneak in to see them whenever you want, but she needs to be with her mother." Lillian hated the fact that she was almost crying now, crying at how much she wanted and needed this little family to be a family. "Or you can keep Tabitha. Bring her back with you, I'll help you. But they have to be together."

Ash stiffened at her side, as if he knew how horrifying the idea of losing Tabitha was to Lillian. But he didn't say a word, and neither did Kana, for a moment.

"What's her name?" Kana asked softly, and Lillian was startled by his kindness; he had likely given Marnie her own name when she had been in his care, but he hadn't mentioned it even once.

Almost without realizing it, Lillian looked over at her shoulder to check for Cam, and he had come closer, listening to their conversation from a few feet away but seeming to realize that he wasn't a part of this now. Lillian looked back at the baby cow. "Marnie."

"Marnie," he said, and smiled. He took the cow's head in both of his hands so gently and said, "Marnie, you're going to stay with your mother now, and with Aunt Lillian. Uncle Kana loves you, and always will love you, but you need to be here." He lowered his head to kiss her forehead, and then looked up at Lillian. "I can find my own way back," he said. His eyes were filled with tears, but he smiled with an effort before turning away. Lillian, Ash, and Cam all turned to watch him go.

It hadn't been even five seconds before they were interrupted, and loudly. "I had hoped that you would listen to me," shouted Rutger. He stood by Lillian's front door, where Cam had stood only minutes before, clutching to his cane like it was the only thing keeping him standing-it probably was. Even from this distance, Lillian could tell that his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked sicker than Lillian had remembered. Older.

"Apparently my words carry no weight for you young folk," Rutger continued. "Explain now, or I'll throw you all in prison." Lillian hadn't even realized that there was a prison in Bluebell, but Rutger didn't look like he was bluffing, and Cam and Ash seemed to be more scared than that declaration should have made them. _Just how bad is this Bluebell prison?_

"It was all me," Lillian said, stepping forward, because, really it was all her. "I convinced Kana to come to my farm, and Cam and Ash were already here." Ash opened his mouth to speak, but Cam gripped his arm so tightly that he shut it again.

"Is that so?" Rutger came to stand too close to her. "Is that so?" He repeated again, and his breath smelled sour, of vinegar and eggs. Lillian tried not to gag.

"Yes."

Rutger looked at Kana, who was off to the side, looking almost too sad to be afraid. "Go," Rutger told him, with so much venom that Lillian flinched. "Go, but be warned; if I ever see you so much as set one foot on our side of the mountain, I won't throw you in prison first." Kana now had the presence of mind to look terrified, and he nodded at Lillian before running off.

"And you," he turned to Lillian. "You, who never should have been here in the first place. You will leave today, or I will do to you what I've promised to do to Kana."

"Rutger," Ash wailed. "Please, she didn't mean any harm."

"But she did harm," Rutger glared at Ash. "She invited an enemy who has already burned our stores, and winter is almost upon us. What would he have done next? For that matter, what is _she _planning?" Almost as an afterthought, he whispered, "The Goddess is always right," and Lillian felt all of her hair stand on end. _What was that supposed to mean_?

"Rutger, please, I'm not trying to do any harm. I-"

"Can you explain to me why Kana was here today?" He demanded, and Lillian found that she couldn't, not without including possibly involving Laney, who Rutger had seen just last night in suspicious circumstances. She was silent.

"Then go," Rutger said coldly. He turned and walked away, but Lillian knew that he would somehow manage to hold true to his threat even if he didn't stay to see her leave.

"But my cows," Lillian cried at him as he went, and her heart clenched at the thought of what would happen to them. Would they be separated again?

Ash came up then to stand at Lillian's side. He put a hand around her waist, almost as if to hold her up. In her ear, he whispered, "I've got them, don't worry, I've got them, they'll be together, they'll be okay."

But it wouldn't be okay, not for her, because she had nowhere to go, nowhere but her mother's apartment, and she would rather Rutger bayonet her into the mountainside than go back to live there again.

Cam suddenly came up on her other side, startling both her and Ash. They had forgotten he was there. "Pack your bags and come with me," he said quietly. "We're going to the city."


End file.
